Beneath the Surface, Above the Core
by VanillaBean75
Summary: No Future is up! Grace contemplates her relationship with Luke.
1. Default Chapter

**Beneath the Surface, Above the Core  
**Summary: What Grace might have been thinking in certain scenes that included a certain geek. 

**Author's Note:** One of Season 1's worst moments (right up there with Iris and Ascension) was when Luke "moved on" to Glynis. The popular theory seems to be that Grace gave him the brush-off, I think he was just an idiot. Grace appeared fine with the 180, even though we all know she digs Luke. Here's my take on what went on from Grace's POV. I hope you enjoy it.

The fist section is in reference to The Uncartainty Principle, the second and third reference Jump, and the last one references State of Grace (A completely sucky place to leave off, I know). I don't spend any time explaining what happened in the scenes, because I failed to take into account not everyone has watched these scenes 300 million times. I'm sorry if it's confusing. Let me know what you think. :)

This is kind of painful, but I had to do it in order to make sense out of the situation. After "Silence" re-airs (I messed up the VCR last time grumble), I might pick up and do the scenes from The Gift and the finale, which will make it happier.

**Unquestioned Motives**

It was one kiss.

I did it because I was tired of the stupid comments by his stupid friend and his stupid assumptions. And we danced so I didn't have to listen to the parasite anymore. When I'm mad, I get physical, and dancing is physical.

So why was it such a rush, and why could I still feel him?

"I...uh...the....the kiss..." he stammered as we walked home after the dance. Dang it. I knew this was gonna happen. He was going to make something more of this. Ask me what it meant, want to define our relationship.

"Look..." I started, but he interrupted me.

"No, Grace. I get it. It was an instinctive reaction to Friedman's erroneous assumptions. Or—or, perhaps, not erroneous, but definitely irrelevant. It was an automatic response to stop any and all discussion of whether you're—of the topic. Nothing more. And—and that's fine. I completely understand that there was nothing more to it..."

"Yeah...OK." I nodded.

I don't think he even heard me. He kept on rambling on about how irrational behavior can be caused by the stress of a new situation, or even too much stimuli, but then rational thought returns, and the scientifically sound thing to do was to disregard said irrational behavior.

Good. We're clear. And it's not going to take some long, angst-filled yap-fest to figure it out.

He doesn't even consider that it could be more.

**The Irritatingly Awkward**

He hasn't tried anything. Hasn't called, hasn't asked for a second date. Nothing. Unless you call working on the science fair project a date. Which, unfortunately, would probably count in his mind of theorems and equations.

So when he showed me the final project, he told me that he "really enjoyed our collaboration. And feels like our intellects and approaches really complement each other." Was that his way of hitting on me? He might as well have been talking to his grandmother, or, I don't know, the Parliament. Who talks like that?

"Stop, stop. You're embarrassing me with your dirty talk." I razzed.

He looked away and went back to his computer, turning all sorts of red. I barely contained my laughter at his expression.

It's so _fun_ to see him squirm.

**Near Miss**

I knew that if I partnered up with him for the Science Fair, we'd do something worth seeing. Something that made participating in this melee worth it. I was wrong. A virtual model, a picture on a computer screen, wasn't worth the space it would take on the display table. I was seriously thinking of blowing the whole thing off. It's not like I had helped a lot, anyway, and he didn't need my help to show off a computer. But when his computer and the virtual cyber model was confiscated by the FBI, I decided to not ditch the fair, and suggested we build the rail gun.

I'm not a science geek, but working all night to get the thing working was kind of exhilarating; our hands and minds were able to create this machine out of steel and scraps. I understand why Rove creates sculptures. Building something out of nothing is real power.

We were done, and I suddenly realized we were standing very close to one another. Close enough that I could smell him. An undistinguishable scent that I couldn't name but recognized from the night we kissed. Distinctly his. I brought myself to look up at him, and saw his gaze intently on me, a charge rising between us as we stood there. If he had leaned in, without speaking, without warning, I wouldn't have been able to do anything but close my eyes and...

"Remember when you kissed me at the semiformal?"

His words pulled me back to myself, away from his eyes and lips and skin. As quickly as the electricity mounted, it died. Fizzled, actually, like air going out of a balloon.

"Forget it." I said and walked out.

As I walked home in the early dawn, I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and held them against my body to keep them from trembling. What had happened? This guy—kid, really, my friend's kid brother—affected me in ways that I had never been affected before. I figured it was because he was the one and only person in the world that looked at me like that. Of all the stupid reasons to date in high school—and most every reason was a stupid reason—dating someone simply because they liked you was the stupidest of them all. I wasn't the type of person to get all swoony and weak-kneed when someone starts shooting puppy dog eyes at me.

I'm anti, I don't feel this way about anything, especially a science geek who is younger than me. He's my classmate, the brother of my friend. Nothing else.

A thought kept returning, no matter how many times I pushed it away: why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut?

**Stunned Recognition**

I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I headed down the hall to Joan's debate.

When I first saw out of the corner of my eyes the pair leaning towards one another, I figured they were just another horny couple that couldn't keep themselves in check for 20 seconds. As I came to the auditorium door, I looked at the couple again. I recognized her first; it seemed to take my brain an eternity to process who was in front of her. I don't know why I took another look in the first place; I usually avoid watching spit swapping at all costs.

My breath caught unwillingly in my throat and I leaned into the lockers beside me. I knew she had a thing for him. Anyone with eyes knew she had a thing for him. Her hands were on his shoulders, and his hands were at her waist as they explored one another with their lips. Why couldn't I move? I didn't want to be there.

They pulled apart, and she stared at him, with the same nervousness she always had around him, then grabbed her things and rushed pass. I supposed it was inevitable that they would hook up. They made sense. More sense than—well, more sense than any other ideas he might have been entertaining. He turned to watch her, and caught my gaze. They'd be good together. She would know that she was lucky to have him, and he'd get what he deserved. I felt my face quirk into a smile before I turned, and walked into the auditorium.

She's just the type to get all giddy when he says stupid things like, "I feel like our intellects and approaches really complement each other."


	2. Unbidden Delight

**Author's Note **I forgot the disclaimer before. I don't own Joan of Arcadia or any of the characters. I just love playing in the fairy-tale playground of Luke and Grace!

This chapter references the notorious geode-giving scene. I had to watch the scene over and over to get this down. Yeah, I know, it's tough watching these two, but I lived somehow.

I have Silence now, yay!! I'll try to get that part up in the next few days. I had planned on posting them together, but I need a break from writing for a while. This is the first thing I've written and posted within a single day, which means I haven't mulled it over as long as I usually do. Hopefully, it's OK.

**Unbidden Delight**

"Hey, geek." I said as we met in the hall to study for the Chemistry test.

"Grace," He greeted, "Have you seen Adam or Joan?"

"Uh, I think Joan might be looking for something to give Adam, for some inexplicable reason." I had a suspicion what the "gift" was going to be, but it's not like I was going to tell that to her brother. All I need is a freaked-out geek on my hands. Better for him to think that the gift would be an actual _thing _"I think this whole gift giving thing is just a merchandising ploy to keep the capitalism machine moving."

"I don't know," he hedged, as though he thought there might be something to the boyfriend/girlfriend gift-giving idea. We were stopped at his locker, and his back was turned to me.

"You got something for Glynis? You guys were together for what, like, 3 weeks?" It was longer than that. Closer to 2 months, although that is _not_ something I kept track of.

"No," He said, turning to me. "I thought about it. Getting her Richard Fineman's lectures on Physics, but it just seemed so..."

_Richard Fineman's lectures on Physics?_ Boy, this guy knew how to be romantic. "Lame?" I offered, highly amused.

He offered a small shrug and looked at me, sheepishly. "Yeah."

As we continued walking to the study hall, I couldn't help the smile that tugged lightly on my lips. Once he and Glynis started dating, we'd fallen into a safe, comfortable quasi-friendship. He, along with his sister and Rove, was one of the few people I could stand being with. He was nothing like Friedman, and although I knew they hung out together like some kind of geek duo, he could hold an intelligent conversation without making stupid innuendos every 5 seconds. He was with Glynis too long to be carrying any previous torches, so I wasn't concerned about remaining friends once they broke up.

"I don't know," he continued, "A gift should just happen, shouldn't it?" I turned and waited for him to continue, mildly interested in where he was going with this. "If you think too much, then..." He gestured helplessly, and shook his head in resignation "Forget it."

It wasn't like him to ramble on about something that had nothing to do with science. My curiosity piqued, I watched as he turned and walked into the classroom, then followed him and joined him at a table.

"You were getting all poetic there for a minute, Spock."

"No, it's......you know," he shrugged.

I knew he wanted to drop it, and usually, I wouldn't be much interested any. But I was sort of humored by his nervousness, and couldn't let it drop. "Actually, no."

"I mean, haven't you ever walked by something, and gotten the feeling that someone you knew would absolutely love it?"

My eyes narrowed at him, as realization dawned. "Are you interested in somebody else, already?" Suddenly, this wasn't as amusing.

"I'm just having a theoretical discussion." He muttered, avoiding my gaze.

"So there is somebody?" This guy's interests went from girl to girl to girl faster than I could find a new authority figure to subvert. It was typical 15-year-old, male behavior I guessed, but for some reason, I'd expected differently from him.

"Guys should be sprayed down with could water every hour," I declared, flipping through my Chem notes.

"Maybe we should study later, when Adam and Joan are here. They're going to get so far behind." He suggested.

"They knew we were meeting, if their thing is getting so hot that they want to blow finals." Waiting for Joan to be where she had said she would be was, I had learned, a futile exercise.

"What?"

"What, what?" I asked, realizing my mistake. How was I gonna out of this one?

"They're getting hot? How hot?"

"OK, take a nap, I'm not going there." It's not often that I say things I don't mean to say, and it was vaguely unnerving that I'd been thrown enough to let this information slip.

"I think you just did," he countered. Of course he understood my full meaning.

Pushing everything else to the back of my mind, I concentrated on damage control, which entailed swearing him to confidentiality, and making sure he didn't wig out because of his sister. His concern for Joan was refreshing, even if it was a little chauvinistic, and I couldn't help but consider it further proof that he was at least half-way decent.

Thinking that we had dealt with all immediate crises, I watched as he reached into his backpack, and drew out a large stone. The light, smooth surface on its outside contrasted with the darker shade in it's cavity, where flecks shimmered as it caught the light.

I looked up at him. He didn't meet my eyes, but pressed the stone towards me. I gingerly took it from his hands, and slowly turned it over in my own, as I began to understand. So, his interest went from girl, to girl...back to...the first girl?

Oh.

"OK, dude, this is just weird." I told him, wondering why I was unable to keep myself from grinning like an idiot.

"I know," he said, looking at me. "I don't care." And I believed him. I got the impression that he had fully expected me to laugh out loud in his face, but had gone ahead and gave me the stone, anyway. The thing was, I didn't feel at all like laughing at him.

Biting my lip, I turned my attention to my Chemistry notes, hoping that once we focused on the reason we were meeting, the awkwardness would subside. "OK...Exchange reactions."

As he began to give his answer, he slipped back into the science geek and was caught up in describing how solutions of ionic compounds are mixed, that cations of one encounter the anions of another. I looked at him, and couldn't help but smile as he began to ramble, giving far more information than I'm sure Lischak ever gave us in class.


	3. Demolished Resolve

Lame Author's Notes: OK. Folks, I'm a little nervous about this one. There's sort of a tangent that makes sense to me, but I don't know if it will to anyone else. Also, Grace is probably a little too honest and self-aware here, but I didn't know how to get around it. Also, I have to put in a SPOILER ALERT. I don't give anything away, but I allude to something about Grace that hasn't come up on the show yet. If you know what it is, you're fine. If you don't, hopefully you won't be able to tell what's spoilery and what's my own speculation. (I hate to even put up the spoiler alert. It's like saying, "there's a little red mark on a white shirt, I hope you don't notice it"). Anyway, enough of this.

**Demolished Resolve **

I wasn't expecting him to walk me home. His brother was heading home, and I figured that he'd go with him. Of course, he asked me if I wanted a ride. I just shrugged, said I wanted to walk, and made my way to the exit. I heard murmurings behind me, and footsteps running to catch up with me before I had even left the hospital waiting room. I shouldn't have been surprised. It was just like him to have some code of honor that wouldn't let me walk home alone.

Thankfully, he was uncharacteristically quiet for the first ten minutes. I assumed he was worried about Joan. The doctor had said that she could have been having the hallucinations for months. I made that crack about how that explains things, but I was as freaked out as Rove was. This was Joan, the person we had gotten to know and accept as one of us. Formed the _us_, actually. Rove and I weren't always tight. Friends, yes, but not _friends_. Not like we are now. Before Joan came, we were like two balls, floating in water, bumping into one another, but then drifting apart.

I was the closest thing to what he had as a best friend when his mom died. My father told me about the letter from Adam's mom, after he met with Adam's dad. Mr. Rove had come to the Rabbi searching for advice after his wife killed herself, even though he wasn't Jewish. I guess the fact that my dad and Mr. Rove knew each other for over a decade, although not very well, was more important than what religion they belonged to. When my dad ushered Mr. Rove out of his den and said goodnight at the door, I could tell that the conversation had been awkward, and my dad hadn't been able to offer any comfort or advice.

My dad asked me to keep my eye out for Adam. Keep my eye out for him? Who was keeping their eye out for _me_? I almost envied Adam, then. His crisis was obvious. His mother had died, so everyone understood why he was having a hard time. No one knew what was happening to our family. Even my own father seemed oblivious to the fact that my own life was crumbling around me. Sure, my mom was alive, but that didn't give me much solace.

After that, I put away all my hurt and fear and kept only my anger exposed. Anger at authority. Anger at the establishment. Anger at the entire world. I became steely while Adam became withdrawn. I never asked him about his mom, and Rove never brought it up because words weren't adequate. The only bond we had was our respective grief and anger.

And then Joan came. I thought she was just another hair-and-makeup girl when she did dumb things like try to ascertain my sexuality, or tryout for cheerleading, but she always surprised me in the end by calling people on their pettiness and shallowness. It was enough for me to not completely write her off. I wasn't looking for a bosom buddy, but I had to give her credit for being more than a cream puff.

We began going over to Joan's house to study where there was so much love that it nearly choked you. I wanted to hate her for it. Hate her for having two parents that loved her and each other, and would lay down their very lives for any one of their children. Instead, I spent as much time there as I possibly could.

Her mom, who knew me by name by the third day of school, always looked at me that way my mom used to. Exasperated. Amused. Knowing. I'd never admit it, but sometimes I'd say and do things just to get that look from her, like the day I cracked that dumb joke, "The reason for my tardiness is I am late." I'd work hard to be sure I was inscrutable to the world, but for some reason, I liked getting that knowing look from Mrs. Girardi.

Her father, the former chief of police, carried himself with authority, yet was obviously adored by all in that house. I always had problems with authority, and the fact that I was spending time at a cop's house confounded me until I stopped trying to explain it to myself.

Then there was Kevin, whom I knew least of all. When I first started going over there he would come through the kitchen where we studied, saying nothing, or making some snide comment before taking his lift up to his room. I could relate to his anger and bitterness, but what struck me was the way the other four people in that house treated him. They didn't walk on eggshells or act embarrassed or excused his behavior. When he was sardonic, they would razz him and move on, the same way his siblings razzed each other. They just accepted him, and as time went on, his comments were less in anger and more in jest, matching the amity of the rest of the family.

If it had stopped there, I would have been able to watch, detachedly amused by this bizarre, yet tight-nit group of people. But, of course it didn't stop there. Mr. and Mrs. Girardi had to give it a go one more time and produce one final human who, I feared, had the ability to throw me completely off balance. Their youngest son, the skinny teen walking beside me, made everything about that house more tangible. He was the embodiment of everything I felt every time I stepped into that house. Warmth. Kindness. Humor. I really wished he'd let me walk home alone.

My mind wandered to the stone he'd given me. Not sure what to do with it, I'd dumped it on the table beside my bed, and hadn't touched it again. _It's the last thing I see when I go to bed, and the first thing-- _I shook my head, refusing to finish that thought.

What was he expecting? Had he always had feelings for me? And if so, why Glynis? I didn't have the answers, and I was pretty sure I didn't want them. Suddenly I was very aware of his nearness as we walked and the questions became more pressing in the silence until I had to speak to keep from blurting out something stupid.

"You didn't have to walk me. You could have gone with your brother." I said, my voice sounded harsh in my ears as I spoke into the night.

"It seemed un-gentlemanly." He said, matter-of-factly. He wasn't trying to woo me. It was just a statement of fact. I barely paid attention to the conversation between us as he started to ramble about the amount of walking we were doing and the finer points of distinction between being smart and intelligent. I don't know why I thought talking to him would be easier than walking in silence. His chatter only exacerbated my inner turmoil.

"I like the quiet." I said, hoping to rectify the situation. Of course it didn't work. He continued to ramble for a while, and then mentioned the stars. Stars! Did I look like someone who appreciated the stars? The situation was quickly becoming unbearable.

"Why did you give me that rock?" I asked suddenly, unable to avoid the question any longer.

He stopped short, and looked at me, bewildered. "It's a geode."

"To me it's a rock," I countered keeping his gaze. Usually I welcomed diversion tactics, but not now. "Why?"

He shrugged. "It was a gesture...of friendship." He paused and I waited, fearing. Hoping. "Possibly courtship." He finished.

"Courtship?" I couldn't help smiling at his choice of words. "That went out with the corset or the walkman or something."

"I don't follow trends," he stated, looking into my eyes with determination that I didn't know he had.

I'd started this, and now my only option was to finish it. "Did you break up with Glynis because of me?"

"Of course not," he answered, breaking eye contact. "Don't be ridiculous."

"OK," I nodded, slightly. Maybe this would turn out the way I needed after all. "I won't. Because that would be ridiculous. So let's not go there."

"Right," he agreed, and I turned away from him and began walking.

"Why is that ridiculous?" he called behind me. I turned to him and frantically thought through the millions of reasons I kept telling myself why this could never happen.

"I'm friends with your sister." I began.

"Right," he said, unconvinced.

"I'm older than you."

"A year. Eight months, actually." He needed another reason.

"I have a reputation." I continued, walking back to him. I had to make him understand. "I've worked hard to build it. Do you know what my reputation is?"

"You hate me?" he asked.

"I'm anti," I replied, ignoring the question.

"OK. Anti what?" He challenged.

Anti anything that threatened my image. "What have you got?"

"So you're never gonna fall in love."

Love. Me? "I'm never even gonna fall in like. And I'm certainly not gonna be courted by some rocket-head geek. If it got around school that you were giving me things?"

"What do you care what people think?" Again, he was challenging me, as if this were up for discussion. "I mean, if you're anti. You know, shouldn't you like the idea of us if you're so anti?"

"I'm not that anti." This wasn't going well. I had a rep. Everyone knew what it was, but here he was questioning my motives and feelings. No one did that.

"Oh, so you're moderately anti," he stated.

He had to understand. I tried again, "Look, geek..." but he interrupted me.

"and besides, you know, love is irrational. It's like this anesthetic goes off in your brain eliminating all reason so the act of procreation can occur."

"Hey," I started, but he continued. The conversation was quickly degenerating, and I couldn't let it go on any further. It wasn't going to work. He just had to accept that.

Desperately grasping for the last argument I had, I interrupted him. "Look, I am not into you. Got it?" I cried, raising my voice to compel the words to ring true.

He stopped, and looked at me in the eyes. "Yeah."

He was finally convinced that it wasn't going to happen. I saw the resignation in his eyes, and suddenly I was terrified. I couldn't pull away from his gaze. At that moment, the scariest thing to me was knowing that I successfully pushed him away. I reached for him without knowing it, and in the next instance, felt the pressure of his lips and his hand rest firmly on my waist.

I held him as our kiss deepened and only one thought that was able to penetrate its way into the back of my mind. Luke Girardi would be the cause of my complete and utter undoing.

-----------

A/N Yay! OK, so there it is. Will I add more for season two? Maybe. It depends on how inscrutable Grace is (the more inscrutable, the more likely I'll add more) and whether other people see the situation the way I see it (again, the less I agree, the more likely I'll write). Anyway, I'm not making promises, but it's definitely possible.


	4. Boundary Adjustments

Author's Notes: This took forever to do! It's a short story all on its own, but it's part of this series, so it's a chapter here. The whole thing takes place between Silence and Only Connect. I hope it works—I'm pretty happy with it, hope you are too. There'll be more from selected scenes in season 2, but this was self-contained, so here it is.

I know feet gross a lot of people out, so I thought I'd warn that I do mention bare feet in this. Some people find bare feet ugly, but Grace isn't one of them (I decided!) That scene might be weird, but it makes sense to me, and I think it's kinda sweet, so deal.

When I wrote this, I forgot that the Girardi house has a second flight of stairs in the kitchen. It messes with the whole canon thing, but hopefully I can get away with it. After all, how many houses have you seen that has two sets of stairs? I can't count how many TV homes use that gimmick. Makes me laugh, but whatever.

**Boundary Adjustments**

I hate being skittish.

I didn't know I _could_ be skittish until Joan came home from the hospital. I saw her as often as I could, but it was always with more dread than I wanted to admit. Visiting her couldn't be avoided. Joan was in a funk after her hospital stay, and I felt like needed to be there for her. That was a new experience. Don't get me wrong. We didn't paint our nails or discuss Matt Damon or giggle about boys, I wouldn't stand to do any of that. But she seemed so lost, and although we didn't talk about it, she seemed to feel better by the time I left. It's like I was normal for her.

Heh.

So, I endured going to her house. I hated going there, really. I was always on edge, jumping at every noise. The butterflies I felt every time I approached the house made me want to scream. The whole thing was ridiculous. I wound up sneaking onto her porch and looking in the windows to see who was around before I knocked on the door. Usually, he was not there or someone else was closer to the door. One time he was there alone, though, camped out on the couch in the living room, reading a magazine. I thought about going around back and trying that door, but I wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs without his seeing me. It was 20 minutes before I saw Joan come down and go to the kitchen. I crept off the porch and ran around to knock on the back door. Once inside, I hung out in the kitchen, keeping myself out of the line of sight of the other room, until Joan was ready to go upstairs. Then I ran so fast, I think she thought I was the crazy one.

It was impossible to avoid him forever. Joan's parents and Kevin were out one evening. Joan and I were in her bedroom, and I was sure he was in his room, working on another science experiment. Just to be safe, I made some excuse so Joan would come downstairs with me when I got ready to leave. As we began to walk out of her room, her cell phone rang and she ran back to it. It was Adam. I loitered by her door for a few minutes, but the conversation turned intense and I felt like I was intruding.

Carefully eyeing the stairs to the attic room, I headed down. I made it to the first floor before a figure, dressed in plaid cotton pajama bottoms and a white T-Shirt, appeared in the doorway of the dining room, carrying a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. Eyes wide and slacked jaw, I knew his face mirrored my own expression.

I turned on my heels, and was almost to the door when I heard him mutter, "Predictable."

I froze, and my impulse to escape gave way to his challenge. I turned around slowly and eyed him. "Did you say something to me?"

He gaped in mock surprise. "Oh, you're talking to me."

"I was never not talking to you." I said. Admitting to him that I was avoiding him was out of the question. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to avoid.

"Oh!" he laughed. "Sure, it makes sense that I wouldn't see my sister's best friend for a month. Given the quantity of time you've spent here, and the fact that the last time you said two words to me was the night we kissed, the probability of you not avoiding me is less than—"

"All right!" I interrupted. I glanced up the stairs, worried that Joan had heard me, and then continued, quieter. "Just don't go on about probabilities."

My eyes skimmed his shape; his T-Shirt fit him more snuggly than the shirts he wore to school. He wasn't muscular, but the shirt hugged the lines of his body, revealing its lean torso. He was a lot less scrawny than he looked, and I tried not to remember how firm he felt in my arms. We stood there looking at each other for a minute until he reached out the plate.

"Cookie?" He offered, a smile playing on his lips.

I needed to get out of there. There was no way I was going to stay and make pleasantries with him. I approached him, took two cookies and sat down on the steps. He stood there for a minute before stepping past me and taking a seat a few steps above me.

"You're sister is going to come down," I said.

"What was she doing when you left?"

"Talking to Rove."

He sniggered. "She'll be at least an hour."

"Those two are so stupid about each other. It's sickening." I broke off part of my cookie and put it in my mouth.

"Love makes you do the wacky," he said, concentrating on dunking a cookie in his milk.

"It's the wacky that believe in love. It's all utter nonsense, especially in high school."

He nodded, and then looked at me before taking a bite of his milk-drenched cookie. "Could be a lot of fun though."

"You would know all about love after Glynis." I said, sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "It isn't _fun_. It's right above a root canal."

"Above it, huh?" He said, smirking. "You rate it better than I expected."

I was facing him, sitting sideways with my back against the railing. He sat three steps above me, and his feet rested on the step above the one I was sitting on. Even with two full steps to stretch out, his legs bent at a ninety-degree angle, and I found myself tracing their length with my eyes. I focused on his bare feet next to me, and longed to slide my hand up his calf under his pant leg and feel his skin. I looked up at him and met his gaze.

In one fluid movement, I stood up before he could move or say anything. "Thanks for the cookie," I said, putting the other one on the plate in his lap, and walked out the door.

---

Joan went away to camp shortly after that, which gave me no end of relief. Between her moods and her brother, my nerves were shot. It was a chance to stay away from that house for a while. It's what I needed, actually. Time away to get a grip. I remembered what life was like before they came into my life those weeks. I didn't have anyone calling me daily, or someone lurking in the background. Not letting other people make demands on me was what I was about.

I welcomed the change. At least, I wanted to.

My phone never rang, and I spent the days rattling around the house by myself. Adam and I hung out a little, but it felt so foreign for it to be just the two of us now that our circle included Joan.

Joan and....

I caught myself thinking about him far too often that summer, and had to force thoughts of him away. The kiss, the night on the stairs, it was all a fluke. He didn't mean anything to me. He _couldn't_ mean anything to me. The whole idea was just too outrageous to consider.

I was in the coffee shop, one August afternoon, reading a book and drinking a mocha, when I glanced up and saw the back of a gangly teenager with short, blond hair outside the shop's window. My heart..._leapt?..._at the sight, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. For a brief second, a smile pulled, unbidden, at my lips, until the teen turned and I realized I didn't know him. I realized then, that yes, my heart had leapt a minute ago, and now, not only did it return to its normal position, but continued falling.

Furious at myself, I threw away my drink, and stormed out of the restaurant.

---

"We rented movies, you wanna come over?" Joan asked me over the phone three days later. She'd gotten home earlier that week, but I hadn't gone over to see her yet.

"Who's going to be there?"

I cringed. What a stupid thing to ask.

"Uh...you, me, Adam." Joan laughed at the obviousness. "You in or out?"

"I don't feel like watching you two snog all night."

"There will be no snogging," Joan sighed, deflated. "Come on, we're just going to hang out." I figured that Joan wanted me there as a buffer as much as anything else. Even before Joan went to camp, things between her and Adam were strained. Neither one of them brought it up to me, though, and I didn't to pry. Life was simpler before Joan became my friend.

"I'll be there in half an hour," I said, and hung up the phone.

Forty minutes later, I let myself in the front door of the Girardi house. Joan was standing by the TV, looking over the DVDs, and Adam was lounging on the couch. Joan looked up at me, and then shouted, "Luke, Grace is here. Hurry up with the popcorn!"

I knew it. Joan's answer to my question on the phone wasn't an indication that it would be _only_ Joan and Adam and me. Her brother had watched movies with us as often as not when we got together at her house. Sometimes Joan griped at his bugging us, but she usually accepted him without much thought. Considering that Joan wasn't looking for private time with Adam, it figured that she'd be open to his joining us. I stepped into the living room and sat in one of the recliners next to the couch. Usually there was a fight over who got the third spot in the couch (which had the best view of the TV), and who took one of the recliners on the side. The couch was big enough to fit the four of us. We'd done it before, but tonight it wasn't an option.

I kept my eyes on the entertainment center in front of me, where Joan was putting in the first DVD, as he came in with four empty cereal bowls and one big bowl of popcorn. I felt his eyes on me, but he didn't say anything as he sat the snacks on the coffee table. He straightened and made a move to take his seat when I stopped him.

"Hey, geek."

He turned around and looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

I held out my hands. "Gimme some."

He eyed me before he turned to fill a bowl with popcorn.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"No, but I'll let you know if I think of something." I looked up at him, giving him a mocking smile.

"Glad to serve," he deadpanned.

"Gotta be good for something."

"Should I feed it to you too?" He retorted softly as he handed the bowl to me. My face warmed, and I shot my eyes over to Joan and Adam, who were too busy being uncomfortable with each other on the couch to hear his comment.

"Dreaming, buddy," I murmured, ducking so he couldn't see my face.

Joan started the movie. He looked at the couch, decided there was too much tension there for his taste, and went to sit in the second recliner on the other side of the couch.

The movie began and I kept my eyes trained on it the entire time. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you what the story was. Images of accepting popcorn and licking the butter and salt off his fingers kept disrupting my concentration.

---

When the movie ended, Adam and Joan were both asleep on the couch, more comfortable with each other in their sleep than they were when they were awake.

I pretended to not watch him as he stood and stretched his long form, collected the bowls half-filled with popcorn, and took them to the kitchen. I sat there in the dimmed silence, looking at the place where he had disappeared. It was a perfect chance to slip out the door. Sighing, I collected the soda cans and followed him.

He noticed my entrance and after a minute cleared his throat. "Uh, so did you like the movie?"

"Did I like the movie?" I shot him a look. "Dude, you _suck_ at making small talk, and I can't stand it. So, don't." I said as I put a can into the pop can compactor that was attached to the side of the refrigerator.

"Sorry. Just trying to make conversation," he mumbled as he wiped the counter with a rag, his back turned towards me.

"Yes. The whole point of small talk. To make unnecessary and annoying conversation."

He turned around and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. His eyes reflected something between amusement and irritation. "You really do hate me, don't you?"

I shrugged, "I don't hate you any more or less than anyone else."

"Oh well, that's a vote of confidence." He rolled his eyes.

I put the last can in the compacter while he folded his rag, hung it on the sink then came over, and against on the counter in front of the fridge.

"Friedman," he said.

"What?"

"You said you don't hate me more or less than anybody. What about Friedman?"

"Friedman is pond scum," I said. "I hate everybody less than Friedman."

"Uh huh." He pushed himself off, and leaned against the refrigerator door. "So, who do you hate less than me?" he asked, amused. I looked at him and waited for a witty comeback to come to me. I hated that I faltered under his stare.

"I'm not going there again," I said flatly, the words giving me resolve.

"Going where?"

Nothing like laying your own trap.

"I gotta throw these in the recycle bin," I said. It was under the sink, and he was blocking my path. He gently took the crushed cans from me put them on the counter without moving away from me. Then he turned towards me, looking at the floor, I saw his eyes flutter up to mine for a brief second before we both looked down again.

"I um....I should go," I said.

He didn't move, but looked at me more steadily. Smiling slightly, he reached out and pushed back a strand of my hair, his fingers lightly brushing my cheek. I took at shuddering breath, and he looked into my eyes with concern.

"Are you—"

"Shut up," I said in a low voice, grabbing and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me closer. I tightened my arms around his neck and pressed into him. Warmth crept through me as he pulled lightly on my lips. He brought his hands up and ran them along my face and into my hair.

I exploded inside and the world spun around me. I turned my face away, and he continued to kiss me on my jaw line.

I put my hands on his chest and pushed as hard as I could. He stumbled backwards, and I saw his shocked face as I ran out of the kitchen, stumbling slightly. I grabbed my jacket off my recliner and fled the house.

I was block and a half away from the house before I stopped running. I put my hands on my knees and gasped for breath. What was wrong with me? I couldn't even be in the same room with him without losing control. Frustration welled up inside, and tears came to me eyes.

"ARGH!" I roared, thankful no one was around. I had worked so hard to keep myself in control the last few years. Not control like my temper control, but keep myself contained, not let anything out that I didn't want out. So why couldn't I do that around him? I wanted it to stop. I didn't want this to be happening. I leaned against a tree and covered my face to keep the tears from falling. He's just a geek, he's just a geek, he's—I stopped myself when I realized my mantra was keeping his image in front of my closed eyes.

---

I slept horribly that night, and had a headache all day the next day. I was grateful that I had the house to myself, as I was in no mood to face anyone. I didn't get dressed, spent the day stretched out on my bed listening my CDs, and tried to forget what happened. I wasn't any closer to that goal by mid-afternoon when my phone rang.

I picked it up. "Yeah."

"Hey," Joan chirped, "Wanna come hang out?"

"Can't."

"Why? Hey, you OK? You sound...funny."

"I'm fine," I said, "I gotta go though."

"Grace wait—"I heard her say as I pulled the phone away from my ear and turned it off. She'll be ticked, but she'd get over it.

Joan's call brought into focus the thing I was trying to evade all day. Avoidance wasn't an option. Joan was one of my best—not to mention only—friends, and as much as I would've doubted the likelihood of that a year ago, I wasn't willing to discard that. Joan was a fact of life, and that meant her brother was too.

I'd gone close to a year of avoiding, denying, skirting this issue, but that wasn't going to work anymore. Admitting to myself that I was attracted to him felt like admitting defeat. How in the world was I going to deal with this?

I needed to be in control. Anything else was far too dangerous to consider. I pulled a notebook and pen off my nightstand, sat up against my headboard and began writing.

1) No "I love you's," or honeys or sweethearts, or anything of the like.

2) No cutesy looks, no significant glances around others.

3) No holding hands when other people are around.

4) No flowers or candy or presents.

5) Absolutely NO discussion of sex.

6) No anniversaries.

7) No talking on the phone for hours at a time.

8) No dinners or movies or long walks

9) No discussing it with other people. In fact, nobody can know!

I read over my list. Maybe this could work. I didn't have to be one of those silly girls that got all giggly and mushy over a guy. Maybe I could do this without becoming so nauseating and ridiculous. The butterflies started to settle then, and I took a deep breath. I just needed a plan, and now that I had one, I felt more like myself again.

---

I knocked on the Girardi's door the next afternoon, and he opened the door.

"Hey," he said, surprised to see me. My stomach lurched, but I smothered it. I had a plan now. All I needed to do was follow the plan. "Uh...Joan's not here. She's at the bookstore."

"Yeah, I know." He stood there looking at me blankly. "You wanna..." I gestured over my shoulder.

"Oh. Yeah, um let me just tell my---"

"Are you seven? We're just going for a walk."

He looked back in the house for a minute, then stepped outside and closed the door. He turned to hug me, but I turned around and walked off the porch. When I was halfway to the driveway, I turned back and saw him standing where I left him, staring dumbly at me.

"Are you coming?"

He joined me, and we continued walking.

"So..." he began. When I didn't answer he tried again. "Where are we going?"

I stopped and looked at him. "Somewhere private," I said. His lips slowly formed his lopsided smile, and I rolled my eyes. "Just come on."

We had walked in silence for a few minutes when I felt him put his arm around my waist. I jumped and turned towards him. "What are you doing?" I barked.

He jumped backwards, completely startled and confused, "I....I'm sorry. I thought...I figured..." He turned red and looked away.

I began walking again, and he took his place beside me after a few steps, keeping plenty of distance between us.

We came to an intersection between our neighborhoods and stopped in front of a coffee shop. "OK," I said, "That café across the street is closed for remodeling, so the outside dining area is always vacant. Meet me there in twenty minutes."

He looked at me confusedly "What?"

"Over there is a dining area with a wall—"

"Yeah, Grace, I see it. Where are you going?"

"Just meet me there in twenty minutes!" I turned and started to walk away when I suddenly turned around and saw him heading towards the café.

"Hey," I called. He turned and looked at me. I walked back to him. "Don't go there yet. Give it a few minutes." I did an about-face and resumed walking.

---

Twenty minutes later I returned to where I left him and saw him standing against the café wall. Did the guy understand nothing? He saw me and stood up. I waved him away, but lifted is arms as if to say, "what?" I waved at him to get down, but he continued to stare at me. I groaned and ducked into the coffee shop where I could see him without being noticed by others. He stared in my direction and then finally stepped into the eating area and disappeared behind the half-wall.

Another five minutes passed before I walked across the street and joined him on the ground.

"Any secret agents follow you?" he asked.

"Ha, ha, geek." I replied. "Do you not know the meaning of private?"

"By private, I thought you meant as in alone, not as in covert operational tactics."

I shrugged. "I just wanted to be careful."

"Careful."

"Yeah." He stared at me. "What? I want to keep this on the down-low for a while."

He nodded. "OK, we're here, now what?"

I bit my lip and smiled slightly. "We'll see, won't we?"

I looked in his eyes, and watched as they passed from bewilderment to amusement, dropped from my eyes, and settled on my mouth. I leaned into him, and we met halfway. I let myself concentrate on the softness of his lips. I loved how he was so gentle and strong at the same time. A blanket of warmth and contentment wrapped around me, and I relaxed my body into him. His arms came around me, and he pulled me closer. Taking my face into his hands, he deepened the kiss, and ran his hand through my hair.

"You are so amazing," he murmured between kisses.

Shutting my eyes to ward off his words, I broke our kiss. He leaned in to kiss me again, but I scooted away so that there was no contact between us.

"Grace?" He reached for my cheek, but I raised my hand.

"Don't!"

He looked at me. "I'm confused."

I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. "Just back off," I snipped.

He flinched at my tone. "OK, the confusion is growing exponentially. Isn't this what you wanted?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean, not like that."

He looked miserable, which made me feel even worse. "I'm completely lost here," he said.

"Look, I just...Don't make such as big deal about it."

He searched my face as if the answers lied there. "Big deal about what?"

"Listen," I tried again, "I don't need to be told I'm amazing, or beautiful, or wonderful, or anything like that. This isn't true love, so don't act like it is."

"OK." He crinkled his eyebrows together. "What is it?"

I pondered his question for a few seconds, but I couldn't come up with an answer. "You want to have the define the relationship talk already?"

"No. I'm just trying to understand—"

"It's not love. It's not sweet or giggly or cutesy or romantic. We're not going to hold hands, or hang all over each other. Don't smother me, don't hang around me all the time, and don't make puppy eyes at me. Ever."

"OK," he said. I looked at him, and saw that he was still thrown by my outburst, but accepted what I said.

After a few minutes, I scooted nearer, and leaned over my crossed legs to him. He returned my kiss eagerly. After a while, he placed his hands on me arms, and ran them lightly up onto my shoulders. Gasping, I jerked back and caught his hands on my own. We stared at each other briefly before I closed my eyes and accepted his kiss. I pushed his hands into his lap, leaving my own there briefly before returning them to my lap. He seemed to understand my message because he left his hands in his where they were as we continued to kiss softly.

Once again I found myself swept up with comfort in his warmth and touch, and emotion welled up in me. I never thought—I hadn't expected this to happen. Ever. The look of contentment and awe in his eyes—I had put that there. _Me._ Exhilaration washed over me, threatening to carry away every other thought and sense I had. I turn down my face away from him, and he kissed me softly on the cheek, threatening what little self-control I had over my emotions, before leaning back to look at me. My eyes burned and I cleared my throat, blinking furiously.

"Uh...I have to go." I pushed myself back and stood up, still avoiding his eyes.

"Wait," he pleaded, and started to get up.

I took a small step backwards and turned away. "See ya," I said, before leaving him to stare after me.

---

I couldn't lie to myself about it. It was great. The most exhilarating experience I had ever had, but I couldn't allow myself to get caught up in it. I liked kissing him, it was nice, but we had to agree on some terms. School was starting in a few days, and I needed to be sure he wouldn't blab this around to everyone. He couldn't tell anyone. Joan would flip, and I couldn't take her badgering me about this.

I sat down at my computer, and switched it on. It was an old Pentium that was my dad's before he got a new laptop. It was archaic—4 years old, but it did the job. Had a word processor, had a modem. Good enough for me. I opened Word and began typing.

_On this day, September 6, 2004, the parties signing this contract, Luke Girardi and Grace Polk, will enter into an agreement as described in the following articles of behavior, which outlines the parties' privileges and obligations. By signing this document, the parties understand and agree to follow the articles with the strictest adherence._

_Article 1 _

_The undersigned parties agree that neither party will discuss the arrangement, as specified in this contract, with any third party. Breech of this article will cause this contract to be null and void, and will result in immediate and total dissolution of current relations between parties. _

_The parties agree to restrict any contact to designated areas, selected by the parties for discretion, seclusion, and access. Make out sessions will be no less than 5 minutes per day. After five minutes, either party can terminate the session without argument or discussion from the other party._

_Article 2 _

_The parties will not exchange gifts, such as candy, flowers, teddy bears, et cetera. The parties will not celebrate anniversaries of any kind regarding relations described herein. _

_The parties will not participate in activities, usually termed as dates, such as going out to restaurants, movie theatres, taking long walks, watching sunsets, et cetera. The parties agree that there is no obligation to call or visit one another, other than to carry out the obligations described in Article 1, paragraph 2._

_Article 3: _

_At school, the parties will not approach one another, walk together in the hallways, eat lunch together, hang out, etc cetera. Any communication will be limited to academic purposes. The parties will avoid looking at each other except when absolutely necessary._

_The parties will not attend social events (games, parties, et cetera) together. Neither will they have contact or communication at events at which they both attend._

_It is inevitable that Grace will be at Luke's place of residence to visit his sister. When both parties are present, contact and communication will be limited to only that which is necessary to avoid activity that might raise suspicion. There will be no "accidental" touching, no stolen glances, et cetera. Every effort will be taken by both parties to ensure that a third party is present in the room if both parties are in a room at the same time. Both parties will restrain from remaining in the same room longer than necessary. _

_Article 4_

_The parties will not refer to one another as boyfriend or girlfriend, or any other gender related coupling word. Parties will not address each other at anytime by "Pet names," including but not limited to "Honey," "Sweetheart," et cetera._

_The parties will never use the word "love" when discussing the arrangement. As a rule, discussion of the parties' feelings shall be avoided, unless one party proposes such a discussion, and the other party concurs._

_There will be absolutely no discussion of sexual relations. Any mention of sex is subject to suspension of this agreement for a specified duration._

---

Joan opened her front door.

"Hey," I said.

"Uh, hi Grace." Joan looked at me as I walked into her house. "What are you doing here?"

I didn't have an answer for that. How could I not have an answer for that?

"I came to hang," I answered after a few awkward seconds.

"Oh. OK." I could tell she was thrown. I usually don't come over unannounced just to hang out. "I'm actually starting a movie," she said, walking over to the couch.

"A chick flick?" I asked, not moving from the foyer. If it was a chick flick, she'd expect me to bail, and then how would I get this done?

Joan smirked. "No. Lucky you. It's _Rat Race_."

"That's a stupid movie."

"Yeah, stupid to the point of funny. You in or out?" She asked as she sat on the couch.

I looked up the stairs, then went and sat next to her. To be completely honest, I hadn't even considered that I'd run into Joan. Or her mom, or anyone else. How could I've been so careless? What would've I said had her mother opened the door, "Hello, Mrs. Girardi, I need to have a private conversation with your son"? I sat there for a few minutes before I couldn't take the tension any longer.

"I'm gonna use your bathroom," I said, as I stood up from the couch and bounded up the stairs.

"Grace, there's one down here!" She called, but I was to the top of the stairs by then.

I made sure no one else was around before I went up the stairs to the attic room door and knocked.

"Come in," he called. I opened the door. He was at is computer his back towards me, but looked over his shoulder and jumped.

"Oh! Hey!" He nervously glanced around his room, and a goofy grin appeared. I felt my stomach flutter at his obvious pleasure to see me. "Uh...what....how..."

I pulled out the papers that were in my coat pocket, and handed him a copy. He began to read it, looked up at me, and then looked back at the paper. "I...I don't understand."

"It's a confidentiality contract," I said.

"Yes, I did get that," he said, dryly. "You—you're making me sign a confidentiality contract."

"Yeah," I said as if it was the most natural thing on earth. His eyes were incredulous, and I couldn't blame him. "What? I told you, I don't want anyone to know."

"And I said I got that. Why a _contract?"_

"To make it binding. If anyone finds out, the whole deal is off."

He looked away, shaking his head, and his jaw hardened. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

I knew it was unorthodox, but I hadn't expected this reaction from him. I was getting irritated. "Look, we can't do this if you don't sign it. The decision is yours."

He shook his head again, then sighed and picked up a pen and signed his copy. I handed him another copy of the contract to sign. After he was done, I took the pen from him and, leaning over his desk, signed and dated both copies.

I straightened and found his eyes on me, his face only a few inches away from mine. My lips twitched as I watched his eyes became heavy while he swallowed. That same pleasure I felt when I walked in returned, and I couldn't deny myself of his lips any longer.

After a couple minutes, I said, "Joan thinks I'm in the bathroom." My voice was huskier than I wished it was, and I stepped away from him.

He let out a sigh. "Wait, so, we're just going to sneak a few kisses every now and then?"

"Five minutes daily. It's in there." I gestured to the contract on his desk.

He stared at me with disbelief. "We're just going to find some corner for five minutes everyday?"

"Meet me at the café tomorrow, before school." I found myself wanting to give him another quick kiss goodbye, like sappy couples like Adam and Joan share. Instead, I turned and walked down the stairs, hearing his hand drop on his desk in frustration.

I stopped in the bathroom to collect myself. When I joined Joan at the couch, she looked over at me. "You could've used the bathroom down here, you know."

Of course she'd bring that up. I looked at her sideways. "It's a little stinky, Girardi," I whispered, earning a look of complete mortification from her.


	5. Unwanted Admission

A/N. This takes place during episode 2.01, Only Connect. Special thanks to LushBaby, who beta'd this for me, and convinced me it wasn't completely lame. It's still not great, but it will do. This was a difficult chapter for me. Not sure why.

OK, guys, I'm putting this to a vote. After watching episode 2.04, "The Cat," I of course couldn't wait to write that chapter. But, then I started thinking, their last scene was so perfect, can I really expound on it? So, I'm thinking I shouldn't do that episode...after all, how do you improve perfection? I'd love to do it, but I'd hate to adulterate it. Should I? Shouldn't I? Does anyone care?

To Grace, because she's sunk, and I love making her squirm, sadist that I am.

**Unwanted Admission**

Things weren't going very well.

The five-minute rule wasn't working, school was a nightmare, and Physics was a disaster waiting to happen. I should have known better than do this. He wasn't cooperating, and I wouldn't let him screw up my life.

Going five minutes without losing all control was hard enough without him looking at me with his big eyes and pleading for more. More wasn't an option; I already had to find ways to distract myself. Usually that meant watching the people around us, though that was a little difficult when he was blocking my view, doing things that I was so determined to not dwell on. So, I'd do dumb things, like recite the multiplication table, or nursery rhymes, or something else I would never admit to knowing out loud. Not that I got very far on any of them, with something else so persistently requesting my attention. It didn't take much for every thought except him to slip away from me.

I could tell the first day of school that he was going to be difficult. We walked together from the café to a couple of blocks away from school, and then I made him go ahead while I waited. Ten minutes later, I approached our Physics classroom, and he was hanging around outside the door, looking right at me! I stopped dead, angry. He widened his eyes, like he'd been caught, looked past me, and called, "Hey, Friedman." I watched as Friedman passed me (without a disparaging remark, for once), and they went into the classroom together. I wasn't fooled, nor was I amused. Then not five minutes into the class, he looked right at me again. The dude sits directly in front of me. How is turning around to look at me even remotely attempting to adhere to the contract?

I thought the next day was going better, until he got in Friedman's face for getting in mine. After I left, I found him in the courtyard sitting on a bench. I walked right by him, keeping my head ducked, and muttered, "Behind the gym in five minutes," and kept walking.

Five minutes later he ambled over to me with an amused expression on his face and said, "I was hoping you'd grant leeway on the five-minute rule."

His easy stride and oh-so-confident attitude did nothing to improve my mood.

"What did you think you were doing back there?" I demanded.

Startled by my sharp voice he said, "He was being a jerk, Grace! I wasn't going to stand there and let him say—"

"That's exactly what you should have done, Girardi! Friedman says junk to me all the time. You'll blow it if you're not careful!"

He held my gaze for a few minutes before looking away and letting out a sigh. "OK, it won't happen again." He was still clearly irritated, but he agreed

"It'd better not," I threatened.

I leaned against the wall, and he mimicked my position. A smile grew on his lips and his eyes clouded over.

"Huh uh," I said, holding up a hand, "We've met our quota for the day."

He moaned. "Grace, come on." He looked around. There hadn't been anyone near us the whole time. "We're alone, it's perfect."

"That's not the point. The point is one, we're going to be late for class, and two, designated areas will never be on school property. It's too risky."

He raised an eyebrow. "Grace Polk cares about getting to class on time."

"You do," I accused.

He stepped a bit closer. "Just one for the road." He smiled.

I wanted to deck him. "Do not push your luck."

We stared at each other for several minutes, our wills silently battling each other. Actually, it was the battle of three wills: His will to kiss me, my will to not let him kiss me, and my desire to close my eyes and savor him for a few precious moments. My desire had almost conquered my determination to stand firm when he sighed and turned away.

"See ya later," he muttered.

After he left, I let out by breath and sank to the ground, exhausted from the inner conflict.

---

I was restless that evening, and so in an attempt the clear my head, I walked out my front door, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and kept going. Walking always centered me.

Tonight, I wanted to remember. Remember what it was like to not have my heart quicken at an image in my mind, or my breath catch at the sound of a voice. It was only two days ago that I went to him with the contract, and already I could hardly recognize myself. Even when he was nowhere around I couldn't go five minutes without thinking about him, and I'd even caught myself with a goofy grin a couple times. Luckily, it was when I was alone, but still, this was the nauseating part I wanted to avoid.

I tried to talk myself into getting out of it, into telling him that I wasn't that interested after all, and that it was a mistake in the first place. The problem is, even in my imagination I never got through the words. I tried to picture him getting angry and storming off, but instead I pictured him leaning in to kiss me. In my mind, he never turned away from me like he did at school. Instead, his amused eyes and knowing smile peered through me until I gave into him. And I always gave in.

I realized I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going, and looked around me to see where I was. I squeezed my eyes shut to the house in front of me, and shook my head. _I did not wind up here tonight._

More than anything, I wanted to get away from there as fast as I could, and I would have left right then, except that I couldn't move. I didn't feel like facing him, not now, not tonight, but being there felt right. I turned my thoughts to Joan, who would be the natural reason to be there. Does she _voluntarily_ go through this with Rove? They say falling in love is the greatest thing in the world, but this didn't feel anything like great. It was messy, and confusing, and why would anybody want to do it?

I walked around the house and stood below Joan's windows. Yelling up to her was out, because his bedroom window was just above and over from hers, so he'd be likely to hear us, and stick his head out of his window. That ruled out rocks or pinecones, too, since that would just get Joan's head out the window, which could lead to the same undesirable results. The only way I was going to be able to talk to Joan was if I climbed _up._ Muttering to myself about the inane things I've done since last May, I climbed up a nearby tree, and made my way to the ledge below her window. My perch was precarious, but I was able to hold on and knock on her window.

Joan opened the window, holding a crazy-looking lamp, looking like she was ready to beat me with it. She recognized me, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

I've never had patience for obvious questions. "I'm clinging to a pipe," I said as I reached for her windowsill and pulled myself to it.

"Grace... there's the phone, Internet, doorbell."

"I do things my way," I declared as I climbed through her window. The phone and doorbell were far too risky, and I was already there which ruled out using the Internet. I looked around at the lampshades and cords and do-dads strewn around her room. "What's happening here?"

"I'm working on my lamps," she replied.

Lamps? As in productivity? "I liked you better before."

"Join the club," Joan muttered as I picked up the lampshade from her chair and fell into it.

"So...quick question. Are you in love with Rove?" Joan's love life was always enough of a deterrent from me getting into the same fiasco that she found herself in. If anything could get me to decide once and for all to end my own catastrophe, it would be watching Joan freak out about Adam.

Joan looked at me questioningly, before looking away, "Well, yeah, I guess."

"Well, how do you know for sure, though?" How does anyone know what love actually is?

"I just said I guess," she said, noncommittally.

"Well, how do you know it's not just part of the whole... psychic flameout? Because it feels kinda like a breakdown."

She didn't say anything for a while, and then she slowly smiled and looked at me. "Wait. Are you in love?" she asked, wagging her finger at me.

Why in the world would she think that? It was an innocuous question, and her assumption was absurd. "No. We're talking about you."

I hoped she had missed the small smile that I couldn't keep off my face, but it didn't matter, she didn't let up. "No, no. No, it really feels like we're talking about you right now."

I felt that same nauseating, goofy smile that I had caught myself with before come to my lips, and I did the only thing I could think of. I put the lampshade that was in my lap over my head.

"We're not," I insisted, a lame attempt, considering that I, Grace Polk, was hiding under a lampshade. Because of a guy. I don't think I had ever sunk so low.

"Grace, if there's a guy...." Joan paused, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. She was going to figure it out. I knew her next words were going to be whether it was her brother, and I was dead. "Or...not a _guy_," she continued. I sighed and leaned back. Joan was one of my best friends, and she still believed those rumors. It occurred to me that her thinking that was better than her realizing who the guy was. "You know, anybody, uh... I think I should know."

Joan's assumptions about my sexuality, though preferable to her discovering the truth, annoyed me, and annoyance was a welcomed emotion. One I could handle. I took off the lampshade and shot her a dirty look.

"I asked a simple question. Forget it." I got out of her chair, pushed her out of the way of her window, and climbed out. As I put up the hood to my on my sweatshirt, I turned to her and said, "I was never here."

As I climbed my way down, I fervently hoped she'd get the message, and not mention this to The Geek. If he knew I was sneaking into his house to talk to his sister about love, I'd never have a chance. I snuck to the front of the house, and saw him in their living room, turning on the television and sitting on the couch. I squeezed my eyes shut for a minute before hurrying off their property, and making my way home.

My chances were already diminishing by the day.


	6. Fluctuating walls

A/N This is for episode2x02, "Out of Sight" Episode 2x04 "The Cat" has aired in the US, which is perfect since I really wanted to deal with information we learn in "The Cat" in this chapter, but be forewarned that if you haven't seen "The Cat," and you don't want to be spoiled, you probably shouldn't read this.

**Fluctuating walls **

"You know, like Luke listening to an Abba CD?" Joan said, my ears involuntarily perking at his name.

My head shot up. "Abba? You're kidding. I mean I don't care...."

Joan continued on about her crisis of the week as I tried to process this new and alarming piece of information. Abba? Why Abba? They were a washed-out group from the lamented disco era, why in the world would he like Abba? I answered Joan's question about what I do when I want to annoy my dad or something as I tried to fit liking Abba into my image of her brother.

Who was this guy? I know he thinks far too much about physics, and that he is a better kisser than a science geek has the right to be, but really, what else did I know?

"Abba and those little meatballs. No wonder Sweden's filled with drunks," I muttered into my locker.

"Thanks for the support, Grace," Joan said, yanking me out of my reverie. She let out a groan and I turned to her, determined to put Abba and their fan out of my mind.

"What's wrong," I asked.

"Nothing," she said in that way that clearly meant something was terribly wrong. "See you in class," she told me, and then walked down the hall.

I will never understand her.

He walked by a minute after Joan left, close enough that my skin started to tingle as he approached, but thankfully far enough that he wouldn't make any contact.

"Hey," I whispered, causing him to freeze in his tracks and look at me. I kept my eyes down as he started to move closer to the lockers.

"No," I hissed, and then waved him around the corner. He sighed, then stepped past me and stood looking at the flyers tacked above the fire extinguisher.

"Do you like Abba?" I asked.

His eyes snapped to me and he looked about to ask me out why I would ask that. He rolled his eyes back to the flyers, and I could tell he was thinking that this was an unfortunate side effect of his sister being my best friend. "I bought their CD."

"Why?"

"I thought...you know, that we could listen to them together."

"Dude, Abba?" I asked.

"I thought you might like them 'cause everyone hates them."

Abba was for _my_ benefit? He didn't know me at all!

"Well, you thought wrong." I said, trying not to panic. "Tell me you don't have any Bee Gees in there." He didn't answer. "Dude?"

"It's just music," he stated.

"Just music?" My voice had risen louder than I intended, and I glanced behind me to be sure that no one had caught on to the fact that we were having a conversation. Didn't he get that there was more at stake here than just music? "Meet me tomorrow night with mixed CDs. If we find no common ground, we're toast,"I told him before I escaped.

---

He was sitting by the tree when I arrived with my CD player. We'd agreed that morning that blaring music at the café would defeat the purpose of the wall, so we decided that the park after sundown was a better choice.

"OK," I said as I sat down in front of him. "What do you have?"

He looked at me blankly. "Hello, Grace. It's nice to see you too."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Just get your CDs."

It took all my self-control to not forego the CDs and the five-minute rule in the darkness as he pulled out a CD and put it in the CD player. I handed the control to him, and snickered when he took out a full piece of paper.

He looked up at me. "What?"

"A list? How long did it take you to do that?"

He sighed. "I....just wanted to bring a broad and varied selection. The list is for organizational purposes."

"OK," I tried not to laugh. The irritation in his eyes grew as he caught my amusement, so I tried to smother my smirk. "No, really it's..." several words went through my head. Charming. Sweet. _Cute._ Words I _never_ use. "It's fine."

He looked at me for a few seconds, and then returned to his list. "OK, um, let's start with this one," he said, taking out a CD.

Halfway through the first song, I had heard enough. "No, no, no. Hip-hop is supposed to be about defiance and social justice. This mainstream trash has totally sold out to the corporate rats."

He started to defend his selection, but I didn't want to hear it.

"Next," I said.

"You're very intolerant," he accused.

Things deteriorated from there. He actually brought classical music with him, a bad omen. When I put in one of my favorite CDs, the CD I play when I'm actually in a fairly good mood, he barely listened to them before dismissing them out of hand.

I should have known this was a mistake. This just wasn't going to work. The kissing was nice—more than nice—but we really were as different as we seemed.

"Look, dude, we tried," I told him, struck by the unpleasant thought that he would probably never really comprehend me. "But music is vibrations, and my music is a representation of my inner vibrations..." I trailed off.

"And if we don't share a common rate of vibration, what do we have?" he asked, agreeing that maybe we really were a mistake after all.

The thought made me sick.

A group of people strolled by carrying one of those big boom boxes from the eighties on a dolly. It was blaring "Celebration," one of those pathetic songs that school bands attempted to play at pep rallies.

"At least you didn't bring that." I said, and then realized he had said the same thing. At least we both knew _bad_ music when we heard it. I glanced at him, enjoying our shared disgust of the song.

His voice brought my gaze away from the crowd. "A shared experience of dissonance creates its own harmony."

"What?"

"Harmonic resonance. It's one of the basic laws of physics. Our mutual hatred for Kool and the Gang has formed a harmonic union between us." I sat listening to him. Not really to what he was saying, because he had slipped into the science geek talk, but listening to his voice, watching the excitement in his eyes as he explained how we fit according to physics. I didn't know about that, but in that moment, I did know this. He was right. There was a harmonic union, and instead of being disgusted or indifferent, I felt something bubble inside of me and escape.

"I think I feel it," I said, laughing in relief. I knew I had that goofy smile on. I didn't care.

"Grace," he said, leaning forward and gazing me. "This is our song."

I sucked in my breath as a thrill of simultaneously warmth and fear shot through my body, causing my insides to tremble. Having a song was a completely sappy and coupley thing to do. It definitely violated the spirit, if not the letter, of the confidentiality agreement. I should have told him off, right then, that he and I would never have a song, and suggesting such a thing put him in serious jeopardy of contractual violations. Instead, I leaned forward and closed my eyes as his lips softly met mine.

---

I meant it when I told him I didn't like parties. Parties had a way of getting out of hand, and I avoided them as often as I could. But when my friends were involved, it seemed more important to be there than to indulge in my antisocial inclinations. Adam was here, and I needed to be there for Adam.

That's why I had gone to the Girardi's party. At least, that's what I told myself then. When Sleazey and Twitchy mentioned a keg, I knew I couldn't let Adam go there alone. Adam and I had a silent pact about this type of thing. That night as I approached their house, I couldn't help the dread that came over me. These were the _good_ kids. Why would they feel the need to get themselves in a mess like that? That night turned out OK, though. They had forgone the booze and stuck to soda. Had I known that, I might not have gone. Not that I mind being there. Even in the chaos of that evening, their home was familiarly comfortable. I know I seemed to not care what was going on around me that night, but the truth was that if raiding the refrigerator was their biggest problem, they had it easy. Besides, he already had one eager beaver helper. My involvement would have just been...detrimental.

But tonight was different. Tonight there was so much alcohol I could smell it all the way from the hammock, away from everyone else. I could think of a million other places I'd rather be than sitting in this hammock and staring at a hundred people making fools of themselves. Having a root canal was one place; back underneath the trees in the park was another.

"High school house party-- a primordial soup of hormonally charged organisms just longing for a lightning bolt and a little innocent mitosis," he said, sitting in the hammock with me. It was a decent size hammock, easily big enough to fit two. Especially if the pair put their legs off to one side and sat next to each other. Hammocks could be pretty great places for quality together time, I decided.

"Dude, article 3, paragraph 2: Parties, no contact, no communication." I said as I pulled myself up and walked away, none too pleased with him for kicking me out of my comfortable spot.

I walked over to a yard chair and watched Joan and Judith act like monkeys on the trampoline. Judith, I knew, was spiraling downwards all night, and while Joan was more or less staying away from the stuff, she wasn't doing Judith any favors by playing along and encouraging her. What was worse is that she was either all over Rove, or ignored him completely. Sometimes I wonder why he puts up with her.

Adam wandered over from the trampoline where he had been watching and sat down on the small table in front of me.

"If she had an off switch, I'd use it," I told him.

Adam nodded, silently stood and passed me to go into the house, resting his hand on my shoulder for a brief moment. I slumped in my chair and stared at the pair in front of me. The root canal was looking better and better.

I heard the music stop in the middle of a song, and the drums and the horns of a new song begin. It was just a few days ago that I had silently consented to the silly notion that this song meant something. I scanned the room for the culprit of the sudden music change and found him looking at me from a window inside the house. I stared at his silly little smirk as he nodded his head, beckoning me to follow him. I turned my head away from him and shook my head. The guy was getting entirely too cocky for his own good. The idea of me running after him like a lovesick puppy was ridiculous. If he thought that I was going to follow him into a darkened corner and let him bestow kisses on me....

I slowly got up and turned toward the house. When I got to the spot by the window where he had been, I saw him standing next to a door in the hall. He caught my gaze and raised his eyebrow before ducking into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. I made my way over to the door, and then slipped through, silently closing the door behind me.

He was standing next to a window, and the moonlight illuminated his smile.

"You have a lot of nerve, buddy," I said, walking over to him, wishing my voice sounded angrier than I felt.

"I know," he murmured, sounding almost contrite. "But I couldn't resist. You're just too alluring."

I snorted. "You're so full of it," I said, willing back a rush of pleasure without much success. He smiled and wrapped his arms around me, then dropped his head until his lips lingered momentarily above mine, a dazed look crossing his features in blissful anticipation. In the next moments the party around us fell away, and the only thing on my mind was the feel of his lips.

A few minutes later I heard the song start again, and I broke our kiss. "You put it on repeat in an attempt to circumvent our 5-minute make-out rule," I accused softly, unable to hide my satisfaction in the last couple moments.

"Free will between the amorous parties supersedes contractual duty, rendering our agreement void ab initio," he said, staring into my eyes, daring me to refute him.

His spurts of boldness never ceased to amaze me. "You're impaired, dude."

"Caveat emptor. I have grounds to renegotiate," he stated, lightly squeezing me to him. I smirked at his declaration, and then tilted my head back to receive his kiss.

A few minutes later, I sighed into his mouth, kissed him once more quickly, and then pulled away again. "Really, dude, we gotta quit."

He groaned and laid his forehead against mine. "You're killing me you know," he said, lightly, kissing my forehead.

"You'll live," I laughed as I detangled myself, reluctantly, from his grasp.

I felt his eyes on me as I left the room, and it was all I could do to not throw him another flirty look and remark. I figured the guy didn't need to be tormented anymore than necessary.

As I made my way through the house, I noticed that someone was sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor. As I looked closer, I realized that it was Judith. I knelt down beside her and tried to get her to answer me.

"Back off, Marge. She's mine," I heard from behind me.

"Did she finish this whole bottle in an hour?" I asked, ignoring Friedman's despicable remark. This was exactly what I was afraid of happening.

"Is that even possible?" Friedman asked densely.

"Yeah, if you want to die," I told him. "Call 911!" I said, and then went back to trying to wake up Judith. When he just stood there, I reeled on him, "Do it, freak!"

The paramedics arrived and began to work on her as I stood watching the familiar nightmare. I vaguely remember hearing Joan yell at some random guy, "No way are you blaming me!" but it didn't occur to me until later to wonder what that was about.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Every muscle in my body tensed at the sound of his voice, and I couldn't decide whether to fling myself into his arms or run out of the room as fast as I could.

"I, I don't know, Luke. Grace found her, I guess. I'm not sure..."

"It's alcohol poisoning," I spat. I turned toward them and saw him standing behind his sister, looking at Judith. "She's had so much alcohol, it's caused her to go into a coma." They had no idea. Neither of them had ever lived through anything like that. I wondered bitterly what it was like to not have this as a reality.

The paramedics loaded her in the ambulance and the police had arrived to shut down the party. He came over to where I was watching them in the driveway.

"Intense," he commented innocently.

Life must be nice as a Cleaver.

"Yeah," I sneered, and then turned to walk home.

He began to follow me. "Grace..."

"No!" I turned and faced him. "Just, go. Leave me alone!" I said, as I walked away from him.

---

The light was on in the shed. I figured it would be. Since Rove wasn't anywhere around when the paramedics were there, I figured he had finally had enough and gone home. I knocked and opened the door.

"Hey," I said.

Adam looked up in surprise. He offered a small smile, but not before I saw his face fall.

"Just me. Sorry," I said.

He shrugged. "No, it's...." Again, his shoulders lifted and fell. "Party got over?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed bitterly and sat on a stool. "Got over with a real bang. Judith passed out from alcohol poisoning."

His eyes flickered away from me for a second, and I could tell he was thinking of Joan. He looked at me again, and while I appreciated his compassion, a sharp stab of loneliness pierced through me as I wondered if another pair of eyes would ever show the kind of concern for me that Adam's held for Joan.

"Can I crash here?"

"Unchallenged."


	7. Relinquishing to Comfort

A/N Thanks for all the fabulous feedback, you guys are awesome! And thanks for everyone's encouragement to do The Cat. That's next. No pressure!! :) Seriously, think good thoughts for me...I just hope I can deliver.

**Relinquishing to Comfort**

I stayed at Adam's the next day until he had to go to work. Then I took as long to go home as I possibly could. It was anybody's guess to what would greet me: stern disapproval, or indifferent silence. It depended on what they had heard. And how bad things were there.

I walked in the front door and had just made it to the front stairs when I heard my father. "Where have you been?" He didn't sound angry, just tired.

"I was at Adam's."

He looked at me with alarm, as if realization just dawned on him. "Did you and he..."

"No, Dad! Adam Rove and me? That's....No!" How could he entertain that idea? It wasn't even remotely a possibility!

"I heard about a party last night. Were you there?"

"Yes." I never lied to my father. Sneaking around defeated the purpose of a rebellion.

"Some girl got taken to a hospital."

I sighed. "I know. I'm the one that found her."

My dad frowned. "Grace, I don't want you getting mixed up with people like that."

I looked at him incredulously. "You're afraid that _a girl at a_ _party_ is going to make me start to drink? Take a look around you! It doesn't take a party for me to know I don't want to drink!" I yelled, and then turned and ran up to my room for the night.

---

The next morning I arrived at our spot before him. It wasn't like him to be late; most of the time he beat me there. I glanced at my watch, and then searched for him in the direction he would be coming.

Was he getting bored with it?

Sitting down on my skateboard, I tried telling myself that it wasn't a big deal. That happened in high school, why high school romances were a mistake. It was better to end it now anyway.

"I was wondering if you would be here." A pair of Jeans appeared in front of me.

Relief overcame me. I wanted to yell, to remind him that he was the one that was late, but I didn't. Instead, I looked up and shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

He sat down beside me. "I tried calling your cell yesterday."

"I was busy. Besides, article 2, paragraph 2, no phone calls."

"Phone calls aren't obligatory," he corrected, looking me squarely in the eye. "I didn't call out of obligation."

"But I didn't have an obligation to call you back."

He looked like I had slapped him.

I sighed. "Look, I just...was out, and stuff. I wasn't ...It's not...." I didn't know how to explain this to him.

He boldly brought his fingers forward and brushed the hair off my face. "What happened, Saturday?" he whispered.

I shook my head. "Nothing, just, you know, the contract."

He dropped his hand and sighed in frustration. "How do you do it? We were having a great time, Grace, but then two minutes later you wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. Did it have something to do with Jud—"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not a big deal!" My voice was louder than I wanted it to be, and he ducked his head, silently absorbing my irritation. I forced my voice to return to normal.

"Can we not talk about this? Please?" I offered a small smile to show him I'd rather do something else.

He looked into my eyes for a while before leaning forward, and I looked at him after his eyelids fell. He is so very kissable, I thought as I closed my own.

---

It was a few days later that we got our physics assignment and I heard him say, "Grace wanted some help on a project."

I stiffened when I heard him say my name. Why did he insist on challenging every rule? The provision about working together for school was in case we got teamed together. Working together by choice was not an option. We were running in gym class, and I ran back to him "I don't need your help, pencil neck. Never will."

I turned around and kept running, but he followed me. He quickly caught up, due to his longer legs, once again ignoring the contract, to my dismay. When the P.E. teacher told us to do twenty sit-ups, commanding, "Grab your partner's ankles," we were stuck together. He looked at me uncertainly until the teacher told him, "Grab, Mr. Girardi." Without any way out of it, he took hold of my ankles and I began my sit-ups.

"Look," he said. "I just thought we could work on the assignment together. I mean, we did it last year, and, uh, it wasn't a problem."

I lay back on the floor, considering his words, and then felt his hands gently rub my legs, sending shivers down my spine.

"Are you fondling my ankles?"

"Yes," he replied as if he had every right. "I am."

I lied there contemplating how such an innocent thing like hold someone's ankles for sit-ups could be such a turn on before I snapped back to the issue at hand.

"Look," I told him, doing a couple more sit-ups, "if you can't handle the terms, the terms which _you_ agreed to, then maybe you can't handle me." Not having the will to fight with him, I got up and ran away, ignoring the teacher's demands to return.

Why was he doing this? Things were going well, weren't they? But he kept pushing. He knew, when he signed on to this, that I wasn't like other girls. Why couldn't he leave it alone?

---

Being accosted by your stalker probably doesn't make your stomach lurch in pleasure like mine did. Still, the term applied when I almost ran into him.

"Girardi, waiting outside the girls' bathroom is a little stalky," I told him as I continued forward.

He ran a few steps and stepped in front of me. "No." He said stoutly. "You said that if I can't handle your terms, maybe I can't handle you. Well, Grace, I think it's you who can't handle me."

Did he really think that would convince me to let him continue to break the contract? "Don't push it, Girardi, unless you want your make-out time cut," I told him as I walked past him.

He got in my face. "This is more than just about making out, Grace!" he argued, his eyes full of frustration. "I mean, I like the making out, don't get me wrong, but we have a relationship here whether you like it or not."

I looked away from him. He wanted more, but he had no idea what he was asking of me. "There are things you don't know about me, ok?"

"Exactly! It's that very indeterminacy that attracts me. I--I don't know why you're so scared by it."

Anger flared inside me at his accusation. "This is about my privacy and you not respecting it, that's all!"

"Ok. Fine." He waved his hands, washing them of this. "Then be private and alone, because clearly that's what you want." His expression, usually so kind and open, was cold and hard, and his words shot through me like a fiery arrow.

I walked away from him, furiously blinking back the tears that stung my eyes as the full meaning of what he had said sunk in, settling in a hard, cold stone at the bottom of my stomach. Blindly, I entered the library to work on my Physics paper and found an empty table in the back. Somewhere in my mind was the idea that I needed to start my research, but all I could do was stare blankly at the table as a new emptiness crept inside of me.

He didn't want me.

No, that wasn't true.

He thought that I didn't want him. He was wrong. Dead wrong. He didn't know that the moments we shared together brought me more comfort and warmth than anything else. He didn't know that his mere presence caused my head to spin and become remarkably clear at the same time. I did want him. I didn't know how much until I lost him.

What happened? The answer was uncomfortably clear. It was too much to hope that I could have a normal, happy relationship. Normal wasn't an option for me. There was so much he didn't know, things he _couldn't _know. Or things I couldn't tell. I kept them hidden for a reason; when people found out, they treated me differently. They treated me with either pity or contempt, and getting either from _him_ was unthinkable.

Nobody knew about my mother, it was easier that way. For everybody.

"_Then be private and alone, because clearly that's what you want."_ It wasn't, but I didn't have a choice. Somehow I always knew that we couldn't last. He deserved someone that would allow him to care for her openly and respond in kind. He deserved the chance to find that.

And maybe I could adjust to once again being alone.

---

He was standing there, waiting for me as I turned the corner of the stairwell. I teetered on my heels, fighting against my instincts to run the way I came. I didn't think I could face this conversation, but his eyes pled with me, so I sighed and continued down the stairs beside him.

"I've thought about it," he told me, "and I do want to work within your terms."

"Well, you shouldn't. It's totally unfair." It was typically sweet of him to reconsider, but he was right, and I couldn't ask him to continue like this.

"See, that's the thing. I don't think they are." He said as we walked down the hall. "I mean, basically, I've been asking for a total regime change in your public and personal life. But you know what? I looked up every major political revolution in the last hundred years, and not even the most violent ones were sudden. You know, they built up over years of dissatisfaction and unrest."

I listened to him with growing amusement. It was just like him to pull out an analogy. It didn't go unnoticed that the analogy was a political one. "Did you make a special effort not to use a science metaphor?" I asked.

"I'm trying to expand my range," he affirmed.

"So basically you're saying what?"

He looked at me with more patience than I deserved. "I'm willing to wait. Hoping that the... revolution will gain some small foothold in the outer regions, such as, maybe an occasional exchange of words in public." I listened to him and considered his words. He would wait, but that implied that there was something to wait _for_. Would I ever be able to give him what he wanted?

He held out a paper cup full of dirt, and I thought about his request: public acknowledgement of his existence. He deserved at least that, compared to what I had asked from him. What he was giving me.

I took the cup from him. "What's this?"

"Well, even warring tribes have been known to make peace offerings in, you know, recognition of their commonalities."

"Did you just make that up?"

"Yes," he said, and I smiled at his unashamed openness, "It's-it's a seedling for a sunflower. It's hard to believe it can grow over eight feet tall. I stole it from Joan."

I snorted at the thought of Joan's garden. "I can't believe she's still at it." We began walking and I gazed at the plant, touched by the gesture and what it might represent.

"You know, her hypothesis actually has promise. I mean, the idea of a community garden can be tied to some key aspects of quantum theory," he said.

"Lay it on me," I said. He gave me a quizzical look, so I explained. "I can't get through my paper. It's too much research."

Still looking at me with a small smile, he said, "Hey. We're having a conversation."

He had to point that out, didn't he? "Not anymore," I said, ducking my head "Just lay it on me."

"Well, um... according to one of the principles of indeterminacy, you know, there's a certain level of uncertainty to every equation..."

He continued explaining the garden and settled into the familiarity of science. It was comfortable talking with him like this; I hadn't in a very long time. It reminded me of working with him on the science fair, and realized that I missed that part of our relationship.

He was my friend.

He was becoming so much more.


	8. Safe Place to Fall

A/N: Well, folks, I went and got myself a fulltime job, which means that updates are going to be a lot more infrequent. Maybe this is even the best place to end it? We'll see. I'm so exhausted right now that I can't even fathom starting the next chapter. But, know that I'm still around and I still love them. I always will.

Special thanks to LushBaby and Cait for beta-ing for me and making me tone down Grace's neediness. Hopefully this is truer to character while still capturing the desired emotion.

To Michael and Becky. Because the writing is great, the directing is superb, but in the end, it's all about those two and the magic they have.

**Safe Place to Fall**

It was cold, I was tired, and I _hate_ waiting. This was the first time he had failed to meet me before school, and I didn't like standing out in the biting October morning, waiting in vain for him to decide to make an appearance. If he had decided that it wasn't worth his time, at least he could have had the decency to tell me to my face and not leave me dangling like an idiot.

I shook my head violently and told myself to get a grip. I had seen Joan go through this when she finally hooked up with Adam; they got together and she freaked. Why must a person drive oneself mad over stuff like this?

I had no choice but to head to school. I waited in front of the building as long as I could, and finally saw him walking towards the school. He took one look at me and headed directly towards me.

I looked at him in unspoken question as my anxiety eased away.

"Hey. Sorry I wasn't..." he didn't finish the thought, as people might have overheard. "We were at the hospital until late last night. My great-aunt had a stroke last night. Completely freaked me out. Scariest thing I've seen, except for Kevin after the accident." He opened the door to the building and I walked in.

"Last night?"

"Yeah, in the kitchen, right in front of us. I mean, she just-- she just sunk to the floor, you know, like, eyes wide. I--I just--I kind of shut down and just watched, like it wasn't real."

"Dude, weird." I was only half-listening to him. Partly, I was missing our personal time, but mostly I was remembering the days and nights I'd spent in the hospital, praying my mother would make it after one of her drinking binges.

"That's it?" He looked at me, annoyed. "'Weird?' My aunt almost died and that's all you can say?"

"Ok, Bruce Banner, relax," I told him. Why was he getting so worked up about this?

"Is it totally impossible for us to share things that are important to us?"

"Hey!" Joan said from behind us. I pulled myself away from him to avoid any suspicion. "You two look deep into something."

"Madame Curie is just trying to recruit me for the science fair again," I covered.

He played along. "It's just the competition's fierce, and, you know... "Joan, of course, got bored and continued walking down the hall, joined by Adam, Friedman, and Judith. I turned towards my supposed science partner, and shot him a warning look before following the others.

As the six of us continued down the hall, my mind went over his last question. _Could_ we share things that are important to us? An unfamiliar sense came over me. I _wanted_ to share with him, and maybe the world wouldn't fall down around me if I did.

Where did _that_ come from?

Pushing away my new quandary, I watched unbelievingly with the others as Friedman once again made a play for Judith.

"Friedman," Judith told him, "you and me-- it's never gonna happen."

"I'm a scientist, my sweet," he answered. "We toil in unsolvable equations for years."

I couldn't help but smirk as I remembered how someone else had once used science for similar means. But that's where the similarities ended; Friedman couldn't be more different than his best friend.

---

It was that afternoon, before the last period, before I talked to him again. I found him by his locker, switching his books.

"You owe me," I said, leaning my back against the lockers beside him.

"Hmm?"

"Five minutes, Dude. After school?" I raised my eyebrow at him.

I watched as his eyes changed from puzzlement, to realization, to anticipation, and then I turned and went to my next class.

A long hour and fifteen minutes later, I saw his long form approach, and he smiled at me. As he sat next to me, I stared wordlessly at him for several moments, enjoying his nearness. He too remained silent, until his eyes said he'd had enough, and his lips took my own. After several minutes of soft sighs and quiet moans we pulled apart, but no more than it took to carry on a quiet conversation.

"So, sick aunts notwithstanding, can we please go back to our normal time?" I wouldn't tell him how hard it had been to endure the day without him in the morning.

"I don't know. Afternoons are nice. More time, less rush." His voice dropped at his last words, taking the bottom of my stomach with him.

"Five minutes is five minutes, Dude," I countered halfheartedly.

He put his hand on my upper arm, and slowly rubbed. "We could try not keeping time. Just, try?" His breath was on my face, and his eyes rested on mine.

I looked at him skeptically. I had long given up doing multiplications in my head when we were together; it never worked that well to begin with, and the whole experience was far too pleasurable to fight anyway.

"We'll see," I said, making no promises. "Listen, You have IM, don't you?"

"Sure."

"Why don't you give me your nickname? The phone thing really isn't a good idea, but this way we can make plans the night before or the next morning." I wanted to keep my options open; five minutes first thing in the morning, or extra quality time in the afternoon. Both choices were tantalizing.

"Gravity Boy, yours?"

"Grace—oh, that's not going to work. I've never used IM much, and so I just used my name, but..." Foothold in the outer regions or not, using my real name to talk to him was too much exposure. "I need to think of a nick."

"Uhhh, HotChick?" He suggested.

"Ha! I'd get people like Friedman bugging me." I shuddered.

"Enigmatic Beauty?"

"Black widow?" I countered, suppressing a smile and picking a more suitable imagery.

I saw his face fall. "Grace—"

"It's a joke," I interrupted, suddenly uncomfortable. Of course he'd see the connection to the spider that ate her mate. "It would keep the psychos away."

He looked like he didn't quite believe me, but he said nothing. Instead he pulled me close for a kiss. I closed my eyes and sighed into him, thankful that he dropped it.

---

The next day I came home from school around four, only to find my mother home, locked in the den. It knew from experience that she wouldn't come out at my insistence, but I tried to coax her out anyway. When that failed, I tried to do my normal routine, homework, clean up, watch TV, but the truth is I hated it. After so many years one would have thought it would get better, but it didn't, it just got worse. More hopeless.

Finally, I went up to my room. Taking my computer into my lap, I logged online and searched for his handle. Finding it, I typed, _hey._

Almost immediately he responded, _Hey Grace._

Why didn't he think a little? Panic surged through me and hastily I typed, _Don't use my name on line, DUDE!!!_ and hit Enter.

_Right, sorry. I can't do anything right_.

I regretted typing the message as soon as I sent it, and I winced at his response. Dang it, why do I always snap at him, push him away? It would serve me right if one of these days I pushed so hard that he didn't come back.

I wanted him to understand. _Look, sometimes I'm a jerk._ I typed. _It's just there are things I don't tell people. I can't. _

I hit Enter, and then considered what I had done. Was I going to tell him?

It was a bad idea. He would feel nothing but scorn and contempt.

His warm eyes appeared before my mind.

Slowly, I typed,_ It's why I don't let anyone come to my house, _and then I waited.

Time stood still. Then a message appeared.

_GravityBoy has logged off!_

Logged off? I slowly closed my laptop.

Maybe it was better this way. Better to not let him get too close. I don't share this.

Where did he go?

I put the computer on my desk, and despite the early hour, climbed into bed. As I lay on my side, clutching a pillow to my chest, I felt a tear trickle from the corner of my eye down my cheek to my ear. My body began to relax, and my lips voicelessly shaped themselves.

Luke.

---

I woke up late the next morning, and missed the first two periods. I was coming out of the office after getting a late slip when I saw him ahead of me. I ducked my head and hurried to catch up with him.

"Gravity boy has logged off?" I asked. Maybe there was an explanation.

He turned his head, but not enough to look at me "Joan was trying to bust me for looking at porn."

My eyes snapped to him "You were looking at porn while we were IMing?"

"No!" he insisted, then looked at me curiously. "Do you-- do you want me to?"

I smirked at him, and ducked my head. Oh, we so weren't going there right now.

Luckily, he got the hint. "Look, the Joan interruption was a singular event, ok? If there's something you need to say..."

I looked up at him. I wanted to say _something_, but it wasn't the time. Joan and Adam were only a few feet away, and I needed to get to class. Making a snarky comment to Joan about hanging all over Adam, I walked past them, leaving him there to discuss Joan's new beast.

---

I sat down next to him after school, and kissed him hungrily.

"Grace—"He said, pulling away.

"Shh," I whispered, recapturing his lips. The desire continue last night's discussion had waned in the bright daylight and the reality of his presence. I caressed his warm lips, and allowed everything else to slip away.

---

I woke up to the screaming.

It didn't happen very often, and sometimes when the silence got to heavy, I almost thought I preferred the arguments. But then I would witness one of them and I knew the silence was far better.

I didn't even know what they were yelling about. Probably the fact that my mother forgot about a meeting at the synagogue the night before, and my dad had to cover for her. The anger that permeated the entire house during a yelling match tore like a jagged, dull knife that kept cutting at the same open wound.

I hated it. Hated waiting for the storm to pass, hated the silence, hated being sixteen and still bound to this household and the occupants in it, hated having to pretend that life was fine when it wasn't. It was days like today that I wanted to crawl up in a hole and scream at the world to leave me alone. Quickly, I dressed and headed towards my door, but stopped and turned towards my computer.

Alone was the last thing I wanted.

Without giving myself the chance to talk myself out of it, I signed in, and sent the message. _My Mother drinks._

I waited.

That was dumb. What did I expect from him? He couldn't make it better, couldn't whisk me away on some horse, or promise me anything. Immediately I signed off and left the house.

Take a walk, I told myself. Go to a lake and find a bench. You've dealt with this on your own before, it's what you do. This isn't any different from all the other times. Don't do anything else stupid.

I stood in front of the school. There were too many people there to deal with.

Something propelled me forward.

I opened my locker and desperately looked towards the front door. Then he was there and his eyes found mine as he stood to be scanned by the security wand. I knew he had seen my message. As I stuffed my bag in my locker, I knew that he'd come over to me, try to offer comfort, and his voice, his soft touch would be too much to bear. Wanting to hide behind all the walls that he had so methodically, carefully dismantled, I turned and walked away.

I had taken two steps and then his hand was on my elbow, turning me to him.

There were promises of safety in his eyes, and I knew that I needed him.

He followed me into an empty classroom, and I turned to face him. I couldn't look at him; he knew too much. Knew that I was a fraud. I was weak and small and nothing like what he thought he was getting.

He stood there silently, and when I brought my eyes up to his, I saw neither contempt nor pity. Just concern. Concern and uncertainty, like he was trying to process what I had told him. I barely shook my head, silently asking him not to ask me the questions he was pondering, and as the questions receded from his eyes, they left in their place patience and understanding.

Gently, he placed a hand on my shoulder, and drew me towards him. As he wrapped his arms securely around me and I buried my face into his shoulder, feeling the softness of his sweatshirt and taking in his familiar scent. He gently rocked me and rubbed my back as I relaxed into him, letting him support my weight. Clinging to him, I felt his warmth and strength envelop me as I let the tears silently fall.


	9. First Step in Trust

A/N: Several people have given input to various portions of the chapter: Cait, Lushbaby, and the shadowy wallflower drummer that entertains me for hours on end. Thanks, dude. You rock. OH, so my question to all you talented writers is who the heck is going to write The Cat from Luke's point of view?? It so needs to be done, and you'll earn 30,000 coolness points.

**First Step in Trust**

I didn't want to move. Ever.

But people would be coming in soon and there was no way I was going to let anyone else see me like this. That he had was almost too much to bear. So I lifted my head as I sniffed away the last of my tears.

He kissed my forehead and whispered, "Let's get out of here."

I nodded and moved slowly from his grasp. "Yeah, I'll see you in Physics. I just need to---"

"No, Grace. Let's take off and go somewhere."

That was something I did all the time, but him? He never skipped classes, and I certainly wasn't going to be the reason he started. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was Genius Girardi's descent towards high school dropout.

I shook my head. "No, I'm just going to clean up." I moved past him, keeping my eyes averted from his gaze.

He put his hands on my arms, stopping me from leaving. "Grace."

"I'll see you in Physics." I glanced up at him before I turned and left the room.

My eyes were dry by the time I reached the bathroom, but I wetted a paper towel anyway. Its coolness soothed me and took the sting out of my eyes, and I took a few deep breaths as I sat in a stall to avoid being seen by anyone.

I hadn't expected a scene like that when I IM'd him. I didn't know what to expect, but I certainly hadn't planned on allowing myself to cry in his arms in the middle of school like that. I promised myself long ago that no one would ever see me cry. It was more than a little disturbing that I had so easily broken my promise with him.

He wasn't in the hall by the classroom when I finally got there, which I was grateful for. But I knew he was inside waiting, and I had to walk past those intense blue eyes that always entranced me to get to my seat. Now they knew far too much. I couldn't do it. I couldn't face him then. If I could have just slipped in, unnoticed, and relished being three feet away from him, without having to answer his looks…but, no. He notices everything, and his gazes were far too evocative.

I spun on my heel, went to my locker and removed my bag to get my skateboard. After a second's consideration, I grabbed a scrap of paper and pen from my notebook, and scrawled a note.

_Decided to bail, after all. No worries, I'll see ya later. I'm using your Physic notes, so they'd better be stellar._

I folded the paper and passed his locker on the way out. Just as I was about to stuff it between the slots, I pulled it back and opened it. Taking the cap off the pen that was still in my hand, I put the note up against the locker to add one last thought.

_Thanks._

I folded my note and dropped it inside his locker, then picked up my skateboard and left.

I didn't go online that night. I knew he was probably going to give me grief the next time I saw him, but I had enough of bearing my soul for the day. For the year, actually. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful, I was. There was a sense of relief that I couldn't describe, hadn't expected, from telling him, and his hug had stayed with me throughout the day, like protective armor. I hadn't hugged anyone for ages, and I had _never_ been hugged like that. Held. Comforted.

---

The next day found me standing by the window, idly watching the fiasco in the courtyard below. Student body elections, AKA, Arcadia High Popularity Contest 2004, had begun, and Joan got the hair-brained idea that she needed to get involved with it. A tragic decision, second only to her trying out for cheerleading. Why does she insist on being such a…._joiner?_

"Hey."

I looked over as he walked up the stairs and sank down on them. I hadn't seen him since the previous morning in the empty classroom. It wasn't that I was avoiding him, exactly. I just hadn't gone looking for him.

"Dude, your sister is looking to support the corrupt political system at arcadia high, which is totally symptomatic of the larger political—"

"Are we ever gonna talk about your mom?"

The wind rushed out of me as though I had been hit in the gut and I looked down at him.

"No." Why had he brought that up?

"Grace, you IM'd me that your mom's an alcoholic," he said, gently, looking up at me. My throat constricted. What did he want from me? "I know you want to talk about it," he continued.

I considered that. What was there to say? Did he want to hear about the nights I cleaned her up, put her to bed, and cried myself to sleep? Or the fights my dad and I had over who should be looking out for her? Or the panic I felt every time I went home, fearing that I would find her passed out? I took a breath and tried to collect my thoughts, but the words wouldn't come. There were no words to describe it.

I looked at him. Why had I told him? I had asked myself a million times, and I kept coming up with the same answer.

"I just wanted you to know," I admitted.

He gazed at me with so much concern and… something else that I've suspected for a while but wasn't completely sure of until now.

Love.

It scared me, but at the same time, made me want to fall on his neck, into his arms and have him hold me so tightly that every part of me would feel his warmth. It was too much to deal with, here at school, so I picked up my bag, and left.

Did he get it? I wanted him to know my darkest secret, the one that I had fought desperately to hide from everybody ever since I was eleven. As scary as that was, as terrified as I still was of him knowing so much about me, not telling him was no longer a choice.

---

GravityBoy: I missed you.

I blew off our five minutes that afternoon, putting me in breach the contract, but I couldn't see him then.

BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Ten minutes tomorrow. Deal?

GravityBoy: Before school, or after?

I grinned.

BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Both. Five before, five after.

GravityBoy: Yeah, that works.

---

The next morning, I sat beside him and shivered.

"This isn't going to work much longer," he said. "It's getting too cold to meet outside. We need to come up with a different plan."

"Maybe you just need to work harder at keeping me warm," I murmured.

He smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

---

Friedman. Even I was getting embarrassed for him and his desperate attempts to pursue Judith by memorizing Hamlet.

"Talk to the freak, dude. This is humiliating, even for him." I said, catching up to the two of them in the hall after Joan had shoved yet another Brian Beaumont flyer into her brother's hands.

"Apparently, I no longer have the language for it," he told me. Shame. The guy knew quite a bit about this kind of thing. It would be good if he rubbed off on his friend.

"What exactly do you think Judith is gonna do when you've memorized hamlet? " I asked Friedman.

"More things in heaven and earth, Grace-io, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Friedman said.

Lars' goons, who had the intelligence of Lenny and Squiggy, came up and grabbed the Beaumont flyer.

"Hey, what's that you've got there? 'Brian Beaumont, A mission statement.' Carrying this might not be too good for your health," Lenny said.

The one person who would never hurt a living being, and these morons decided to pick on him. I felt my blood start to boil.

"You can't possibly be this much of a nimrod, right?" I asked, getting right up in their faces.

"Leave it alone, Grace." He put his hand on my arm.

"Leave it alone, Grace," Squiggy mocked.

I pulled my arm away from him. "They're not gonna do anything. These losers have some archaic code where they'd never hit a girl."

"Yeah, as if you're a girl," Squiggy said.

The next thing I knew, I slammed into the wall and hit my head as I fell to the ground. I was vaguely aware that on the other side of the hall, Mr. Congeniality had shoved my attacker against the wall, and Lenny had a hold on him. I put my arms up, instinctively, when he came flying towards me, hit the wall, and slid down beside me.

Who knew that this placid, intelligent, scrawny guy had it in him?

He was near enough that my knee and hand settled easily on his leg. "That was beautiful, dude," I told him.

We both began laughing as we sat there, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I'd been in fights before, and they were always rushes, but this? This was exhilarating and wonderful and I loved that we had gone through it together. Loved that he did that for me. We scrambled to our feet, and it was all I could do to withhold myself from lunging at him in front of everyone.

"Behind the gym, five minutes," I said, trying to catch my breath. I had to get away or else I couldn't be held responsible for my actions.

Tearing myself away from him, I rushed to the door, turning to open it with my back to get another look at him. He stared at me with a bewildered look, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. I jerked my head impatiently, and he slowly began to smile.

Five minutes was supposed to be a round number, a code for soon, but discretely. I was forced to wait as he dutifully waited the full time before appearing beside me.

"Are you chewing me out again?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was mocking me, or really thought I was angry.

"Oh. No," I breathed, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him to me.

---

"You know, statistically, this last campaign thrust has less than a 13 chance of success," he said as we replaced vandalized "Vote for Brian" posters in an attempt to help Joan elect the guy.

I was long used to him spouting random, useless facts at me. It was sort of entertaining.

"You realize I don't understand half of what you say," I teased him.

"Right," he said.

But I did listen to him. And maybe he could be someone I could talk to.

I began speaking. "When I was 11, my friend Becky Coogan slept over…."

_The sun streamed through the window as the two girls woke up from their slumber. Grace Polk turned over and looked at the girl beside her. It wasn't often that she was able to invite a friend to sleep over, and Grace could hardly believe that spunky, cool Becky Coogan had agreed to come. She was one of the few other girls that would play wall ball, and the only one besides Grace that could beat most of the boys. They hung out around the wall ball courts, but this was the first time they had done anything together outside of school_

_Becky sat up and looked at Grace. "We were up until one o'clock! You're mom is soooo cool for letting us stay up that late. My mom makes us go to bed at eleven when people spend the night at my house."_

_Grace smiled. "I stay up as late as I want to most nights," she boasted, not bothering to tell her companion that most nights she went to bed without even seeing her mom or dad._

_"You're so lucky. I wish I had a mom like you."_

_"Yeah, she's cool. She said she'd make us pancakes this morning….with blue berries!!"_

_Becky's eyes widened in salivating anticipation. "Yum!"_

_Grace scooted out of her sleeping bag and stood up. "Let's go see if she's awake!"_

_Giggling, the two girls padded in their bare feet down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Becky cried, "Race ya!" and broke into a run. Startled, Grace laughed and ran after her friend, nearly crashing into the other girl as she came to a sudden halt in the kitchen doorway._

_"Grace, why is your mom lying on the floor like that?" Becky asked._

_Grace looked in the direction where Becky was facing. "Mom?" Grace moved over and knelt by her mother. "Mom? Mommy?"_

_Grace's mother moaned and turned over. "Go away!"_

_"What's wrong with her?" Becky asked?_

_Grace looked up, stricken to find the other girl's face twisted in disgust. "I—I don't know. She just gets sick sometimes." Grace got up and ran up to her parents room and knocked._

_"Dad? Daddy?" Her father was usually gone by this time, but maybe he overslept._

_No. He was gone. Grace went back down to find her mother and Becky right where she left them; her mom was passed out, and Becky looked on, horrified. Stepping past Becky, Grace reached down and nudged her mom._

_"Come on mom, I'll help you to bed."_

_"I thought I told you to leave me alone, brat!"_

_Grace's eyes watered. "Please, mom."_

_The woman moaned and lifted herself to a sitting position. Her blond, shoulder-length hair knotted in a tangled mess and her rumpled blue button-down shirt gaped, halfway unbuttoned, revealing her bra. Glaring first at Grace, then at Becky, she stood, jerking her arm away from Grace's helpful hands, and stumbled towards the stairs._

_"Are—are you going to make us pancakes?" Grace asked the retreating figure._

_"Make your own stupid pancakes," Grace's mother sneered without looking back._

_Grace stood, stunned and speechless, after her mom left the room. Then, determined to salvage the morning, she cleared her throat. "I can make pancakes, I've done it before."_

_Becky had not moved since she first discovered the woman. "I think I should go home," she said._

_"Oh, but, we have blueberries," Grace said._

_Becky shook her head and turned to run upstairs to get her things. Too numb to move, Grace waited until Becky crept back downstairs and towards the front door._

_"I had fun," Grace offered, joining the other girl in the entryway with her best efforts at a small smile._

_Becky looked at her, startled. "Uh, yeah. I…I'll see you around."_

"Becky never talked to me after that. Becky was cool. You would've liked her," I told him.

He didn't say anything, thankfully. I didn't need words of sympathy or his trying to tell me how everything would be OK--something he couldn't guarantee. He listened. Was there.

That was enough.


	10. Facing the Dragon

A/N OK, folks, the word for the day is _karma._ Grace/Luke stories have been few and far between lately. Well, within the last week or so, and as someone who needs Grace and Luke goodness _daily,_ that is a very long time. So, I'm hoping that by posting this, other G/L stories will get updated soon, and new ones will show up as well.

Thanks go out again to the Shadowy Wallflower (aka wallflower04…check out her In From the Rain.) because she beta'd for me. And then she let me pester her about all the weak spots. And for that she's just cool.

**Facing the Dragon**

I was supposed to be studying. Midterms were coming up, and I still didn't understand the last unit we had in Physics. Instead, I was coaxing my mother off the floor.

"Gracie, sing with me!"

"No, mom. I'm not going to sing." I sighed. She thinks she's cute when she starts singing Broadway show tunes at the top of her lungs. She's not. "Come on mom, get up."

My mother took my outreached hand, and I helped her struggle to her feet. She leaned on me as we made our way to the stairs, my mom working on her vodka.

"Why don't you put the bottle down so you can use the railing, Mom," I said, holding out my free hand.

"Ah ah ah, You're too young to have this Gracie." She giggled. "But if you want to try a little, I won't tell."

"No, Mom, I don't want any of your vodka, I just want to get you upstairs. So I can study."

We stumbled our way up the stairs, and halfway up she lost her balance and tripped, falling forward. Sitting on the stairs and giggling like a schoolgirl, she finished off the bottle. I stood over her, and wondered how many hours in my life I'd wasted playing nursemaid to my mother instead of studying or hanging out with my friends, or, even frying my brain in front of the television. Isn't that what most teenagers did? Once her bottle was dry, she let me pick her up and we headed towards her bathroom.

After her shower, I finally got her to get into bed and went back to my room. Flopping on my bed, I picked up my laptop and was greeted with an IM screen.

GravityBoy logged in at 9:13 pm

GravityBoy (9:13 pm): hey

GravityBoy (9:27 pm): hello????

GravityBoy (9:45 pm): You there yet?

GravityBoy (10:04 pm): where the heck are you??

GravityBoy (10:14 pm): should I be worried?

GravityBoy (10:33 pm): I hope everything is ok there.

GravityBoy (11:08 pm): sorry I missed you – see you tomorrow.

GravityBoy logged off at 11:08 pm.

Well, that sucked. He could've helped me with Physics; one of the privileges of making out with the smartest guy in class.

Too tired and despondent to study, I turned off my computer and got ready for bed.

---

He was standing against the wall of the café the next morning, much like he was the first time I told him to meet me there. Stepping off my skateboard and picking it up, I walked from the corner to the other end of the block to where he was.

"What's with the case of amnesia?" I asked.

"We're moving," he said, standing up, "I told you it was getting too cold."

"It's not that cold." I gestured to the crisp, unusually warm weather. "Where do you suggest we meet?"

"School. Biology storage room."

I raised an eyebrow. "Not on school property, remember?"

He held my gaze. "Wasn't a problem the other day."

We slipped into one of our miniature staring contests. He always did this: pushed the limits. It wasn't cute.

OK, so maybe it was, a little.

"Fine, but, you have to help me study for Physics."

"OK." He broke into his wide grin.

Rolling my eyes, I glanced around to make sure the street was deserted before I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

He looked at me, startled. "Wow."

"Yeah. Don't get used to it." I dropped my skateboard and pushed myself off.

"You're not going to walk with me?" He called after me.

"It's too cold!" I yelled over my shoulder.

---

I was standing at the other end of the hall of the biology lab studying a flyer when he passed me ten minutes later. I turned and watched as he slipped into the classroom, and then followed him after making sure no one was watching.

We were getting pretty good at this stealthy stuff.

The storage room was littered with jars of putrefied species suspended in embalming fluid. The fish and iguanas stared stonily at us from their eternal prison.

"Dude, it's like a pet cemetery in here."

"Lischak gave me the key," he told me. "Science student of the year does have its privileges."

"This is so the beginning of a Stephen King novel."

"Where were you last night?" he asked. "I IM'd you a thousand times."

"Oh, my mom was in rare form. Doing her Judy Garland act." It was strange, and yet weirdly comforting, to tell him this. "Lots of singing, lots of falling down, me putting her in the shower."

There were other things I'd rather do with him than discuss my mother, though. I took a step forward, but his words stopped me.

"Where was your dad?"

I stepped back and shrugged. "He works late so he doesn't have to deal. It's their little unspoken bargain. As long as she's sober at temple, runs her meetings, and has everybody snowed, she... " His eyes clouded as pain crept over his boyish features, revealing his heartbreak. His heartbreak for _me_. My stomach tightened, protesting his concern. "Don't look all simpy, I'm used to it. "

He looked at me, startled, and disbelievingly. "Maybe you should talk to somebody."

"Why? I'm almost out of there."

"It's two more years. That's fifteen percent of your life so far," he said.

This wasn't getting us anywhere, and we only had a few minutes before we had to get to class. "The test is on Thursday. Let's cram. Dark matter, black holes. Lay it on me," I told him as we sat on the floor.

"Their gravity is so strong that they pull in anything that gets close to them. You know, you don't have to be embarrassed to talk to me about—"

I don't think I had ever gone so long with being alone with him and not kissing him. Something that needed to be remedied. I leaned forward, pressed my mouth against his, and pulled and sucked on his lips. Swiping his lips with my tongue, I kissed him one more time before I pulled back.

"How's that for gravitational pull?" Surely this was more interesting than discussing my drunk mother.

Instead of the smile I expected, or the dazed look I had grown accustom to seeing after kissing him, he looked away in disappointment. I moved closer to him, and he looked back at me. Searching his eyes, I put my arm around his shoulders, grasped the back of his neck and resumed kissing him. Words weren't necessary, and I didn't want to discuss it. I just wanted to enjoy the few minutes I had with him.

He responded more fully this time, bringing his hand up and settling it on my shoulder blade. After a few minutes I broke our kiss and sat down next to him, with one leg resting on his crossed knee.

"This isn't studying," he told me, his eyes glazed over from the kiss.

I shrugged and smiled. "It's better, dude," I said, and then kissed him again.

---

"I'm so going to flunk the test," moaned Joan beside me as we walked out of Physics.

"I'll study with you, Jane."

"Really?" Joan asked Adam.

"Unchallenged."

I kept my eyes forward as the two of them undoubtedly did the cutesy lovey-dovey-gazing-into-each-others-eyes thing. If I ever got like that, I told myself, I'd get myself committed.

"Grace, you want to study with us?"

I looked over at Adam's question, and saw him looking past Joan to me.

"Ha! And watch you two coo over each other? I don't think I would get anything done; I'd be too busy trying to keep my lunch," I said.

"You're not worried about the exam?" Joan asked.

I shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

"I'll help her study." Joan's brother said from behind Adam. I stiffened, but relaxed almost immediately. It was nothing more than an offer to help me out. I was sure that nobody knew, until,

"Yeah, a lot of _studying_ is going to happen in that scenario," came a whisper from behind me.

I whipped my head around and saw the blond head bowed, contemplating her shoes as we walked. I don't know where she had come from, but no one else seemed to have heard her; Joan and Adam were once again caught up in each other and Friedman and his buddy were discussing some upcoming science seminar. Glaring at the girl behind me, I wondered if I had truly heard correctly, or if I imagined it.

Adam and Joan peeled off to go to Joan's next class, and Friedman and Glynis continued down the hall, leaving their third team member at his locker. I stalled in the middle of the hallway as I tried to decide whether to follow Joan and Adam, or stay and discuss plans to study. Finally, I moved over and leaned against the lockers beside him.

"'I'll help her study?'" I asked.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking," he muttered as he pulled out some books. "I don't think anyone noticed, though."

I considered telling him what I thought I had heard, but decided against it. I wasn't that sure I had heard correctly, and I really didn't feel like bringing up the subject of Glynis.

"Your sister's right, though. This test is going to kill us all. I'm going to study through lunch," I told him.

"In the library?" he asked. "I'll come find you."

"Studying together in the library? Dude, contract!" I hissed.

"What? We've decided that we can be seen together?"

"Yeah, but," It wasn't the idea of being in public that bothered me, it was something else. I quirked a grin at him. "It would be more fun to study in private."

He stared at me, and then returned my grin. "OK, I'll meet you in the biology—Oh, I have to help Mr. Edwards with Audio/vid during free period today, which means I'll be ten minutes late. Here." He pulled out his keys, took one of the keys off the ring, and handed it to me. "Don't lose it. I'm a dead man if I don't give it back at the end of the term."

I took the key from him and put it in my back pocket before smirking at him and heading to my next class.

---

The storage room was a kick. Jars upon jars of dead animals waited to be dissected in some biology class. Leave it to my boyfriend to pick a room like this for making out. Not many girls would have liked it. I grinned. He knew me well.

I placed my bag on a clear area of the counter and got out my Physics notes. Fifteen minutes later, I heard the door open.

"No sucking face yet, bone rack. We have a physics midterm in 2 days, and I know less about Planck's constant than that lobster." I looked over at the jar next to me and squinted my eyes. "Or is that 2 frogs?"

"That's not why I'm here," he said as he came to stand by me and held out a pamphlet.

I looked up at him, and then took the pamphlet and read the front.

"Alateen?" Last year in health class, the teacher had gone on and on about it during the section on drugs and alcohol. She said that if anyone had an alcoholic parent, we should look into it. I had scoffed, and told the teacher that Alateen was just another way for adults to exert control over the lives of kids under the guise of "helping" them. It earned me a week's detention.

"You blabbed about me? To a room full of freaks?" I accused as he pulled up a stool and sat down.

"I picked it up at the public library, and they're not freaks. They're kids like us," he said.

"Dude, have you been inhaling the formaldehyde?" I dropped the pamphlet on my Physics book. "There's no way I'm doing this. "

He gazed at me, his eyes endless pools of concern and compassion. "Go to one meeting," he said.

I had lived with this for nearly as long as I can remember. No amount of talking about it, of "sharing my feelings" was going to make it any better.

"I've been through it all, Girardi. There is nothing new they can tell me," I told him.

"You've been through it by yourself. It doesn't have to be that way anymore."

Didn't he get it? That's how I liked it, how I survived. Yeah, I told him, but that was different than going into a room full of strangers and having them stare at me and know exactly why I was there.

I picked up the pamphlet and silently held it out to him. He looked at me for a minute before taking it. I held his gaze and then looked back at my physics book, still feeling his eyes on me. The formulas on the page twisted and turned, forming themselves into entities I was sure I had never seen before. I sighed and looked back at him.

"What?" I asked. He wore the same expression he had when I looked away. I didn't have the energy to fight with him. I was tired, and we still hadn't studied like he promised.

He shook his head, barely making enough movement for it to be perceptible, and shrugged. "I just wish you didn't have to go through this," he answered, running his hand along my arm.

I closed my eyes, briefly, to ward off the burning, and then looked back at him. His countenance saddened, he swallowed and leaned forward. Softly, his lips touch mine, and he held them there. It wasn't really a kiss; it was a declaration and a plea:

_I love you. Please do this._

When he broke away, I kept my eyes averted from his.

"I'll…I'll talk to you later," he whispered, getting up. I watched his back as he opened the door, and quietly shut it behind him. Glancing down at the table, I saw that he had left that stupid pamphlet tucked halfway under my physics book.

I picked it up and opened it. Inside was written the day and location of the meeting, and testimonials about how Alateen had helped kids deal with their Alcoholic parent.

Right, like sitting in a room can make my mom stop drinking away her life and mine.

I wanted to be angry with him for pushing this junk on me, for thinking that he could swoop in and turn my life into a happy, rosy picture. Instead, I recalled the look in his eyes and the feel of his lips. He didn't know what my life was like, not really. But at least he gave a crap, which was more than I could say for just about everybody else.

---

"I still need to study for Physics," I muttered as we walked down the hall.

"We can study tonight. You can come over, or we can meet at the library. About 7?" He said.

"Can't. We'll have to make it later." I told him.

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "The Alateen thing is tonight." I kept my eyes straight ahead and refused to look at him.

"OK." I could hear the smile in his voice. It was almost smug. "I'll meet you at the lib—"

I whirled on him. "No way! If I have to suffer through this, you're suffering too."

He looked at me blankly. "You—you want me to come with you?"

I turned and kept walking. There was no way I was going through this by myself.

"It's that old adage, misery loves company," I said.

---

We walked in the small church and saw a couple dozen people milling around a table filled with literature and setting up chairs. A man in his late twenties saw us and came over to introduce himself. I smiled a fake smile and shifted the weight on my feet as I looked around the room. The man turned towards the room and asked people to take their seats.

I listened as everyone stood up and discussed their week. One father stayed out all night, only to return home a beat up a fourteen-year-old kid, another one finally got fired, causing his wife to leave him—for the fifth time. A seventeen-year-old guy's mom had spent three days locked in her bedroom, and the guy finally had to remove the door just to make sure the woman was still alive.

The scenes were different, but they could have all been talking about my life. I leaned over to my companion.

"This is just too weird, Girardi," I whispered.

"Anybody else?" the leader asked when the guy next to me sat down.

I looked around the room and saw all eyes on me, waiting expectantly. They wanted me to stand up, say my name and spill my guts. It wasn't a possibility. I looked over at the one person I knew, my one ally, hoping for an indication that I could get out of this.

Nope, not a chance.

Bracing myself for the worst, I stood up and introduced myself.

"Hi, my name is Grace."

"Hi, Grace," everyone chorused.

My fingers felt like ice as I stood there and tried to collect my thoughts. I still couldn't believe I was there and was supposed to tell them my life story. I spent my whole life making sure no one knew what I was about to say, if it ever got back to my father that I had blabbed this…

"Nothing leaves this room, right?" I asked. "Because I will hunt you people down."

I got a few smiles and nods, but mostly I got blank stares.

Studying the floor and darting my eyes around the room, I tried to think of where to begin.

"Uh..." How could I explain the total disaster that my life had become? I had never said the words before, the words that were my reality, no matter how hard I tried to hide from it.

"My mother is an alcoholic."

They felt strange in my mouth, and it seemed like someone other than me had said them. There was no sense of relief, no burden suddenly lifted from my shoulders; only numbness as my last sentence rang in my ears.

A warm hand brushed my clenched fist and gently pushed my fingers open. He laced his fingers through mine and I automatically wrapped mine around his. Feeling the need to explain his presence, I turned to him.

"And this is m.." I looked at him. What was he? My friend? My confident? My make out partner?

He was already more than all of that.

I smiled down at him. "My boyfriend." He looked at me, surprise barely registering in his eyes. "Luke," I finished, pulling gently on his hand.

He stood as the room greeted him. I looked at him as I rested my hand securely in his and leaned slightly into him. He told me I didn't have to go through this alone anymore.

And I believed him.


	11. Revelation

A/N Happy New Year!! I have no life so I was able to get this chapter written. It was a pretty easy chapter to write. Thanks to Wallflower04 for the beta. Enjoy!

**Revelation**

I eyed him as he grabbed every last piece of literature they had available at the Alateen meeting, but decided not to say anything. All I really wanted to do was get out of there and find a place to study for our exam.

He pulled out one of the pamphlets and began reading it out loud as we walked to the library. I listened for a while as he read some testimonials. Then he started reading some statistics about the Alateen members and I tuned out. When I tuned back in, he was in the middle of reading the twelve steps of Alateen.

"Dude," I interrupted, stopping and turning to him, "enough already. I went like you asked, can we just drop it now?"

He stared at me. "Grace, this is important. This is going to help you—"

"Yeah, but…" I fidgeted restlessly. I wasn't sorry we went, but he needed to let it go. "It's late, and we haven't studied, and I…don't wanna talk about it right now." I sighed and looked up at him.

He studied me for several minutes, his eyes calculating, like he was trying to determine the next step to take to produce his desired results.

Finally he nodded. "OK. For now."

---

I ran into him on the front steps of the school the next day. "Hey," I greeted, "storage room in five minutes?"

"Sure." He nodded eagerly, and I felt a smile creep on my face until he continued, "I was reading the pamphlet, _Youth and the Alcoholic Parent_, and it said--"

"Uhh, I just remembered that there's some….homework…I gotta finish. I'll catch ya later." I left him standing in the middle of the hall.

I arrived at my first class twenty minutes early. When in the world was I ever twenty minutes early for a class?

---

My IM beeped at me that afternoon.

_GravitityBoy: Are you there?_

I sighed as I debated whether to answer him. I had spent the rest of the day making sure I was never alone with him. It wasn't my idea of a good time, truthfully. It's like swearing off your favorite food, and then you suddenly have an insatiable craving for that food. But I knew he wasn't letting up on this Alateen thing, and I didn't feel like discussing it.

But now he was a computer away, so talking to him shouldn't be so bad.

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Yeah, I'm here._

_GravitityBoy: Have you read any of the pamphlets? They talk about keeping a journal._

I shook my head. This guy doesn't give up.

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Yeah, dude, they talked about that at the meeting. I was there, remember?_

_GravitityBoy: Right. It's probably a good idea. Helps you sort out your feelings…._

I glared at the screen. Sort out my feelings? OK, enough of this.

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you…..sometime._

_GravitityBoy: OK. Let me know how things are going, ok?_

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Right_

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U logged off._

I logged off and spent the next two hours on my computer playing Tetris and blocking out everything else.

---

I woke up twenty minutes before school started the next day. We had slipped into a daily routine of meeting for fifteen or twenty minutes before school, but I was too tired to make myself get up in time.

That, and deflecting his questions was getting old fast.

I spent the day not only making sure I was never alone with him, but making sure we were never close enough to hold a conversation. The Physics test was that day, so I couldn't skip it, but I slipped in just as the bell rang, kept my eyes on my desk the entire time. When the class ended, he got stuck talking to Friedman and Glynis about the test, so I was able to sneak out.

My luck ran out that afternoon, though it was my own fault that it did. I saw him there, talking to someone in the walkway, but I was tired and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible to find a different route. I turned slightly as I walked by, but heard him stop talking mid-sentence and knew he was following me.

Maybe he had gotten the picture. Maybe he'd rather do something other than discuss my sick mom.

"You've been avoiding me," he said as he caught up to me.

I should have gone another way.

"Not successfully, it seems," I replied.

"You said you were gonna tell me how things were going."

He wanted the play by play? "Very well…for my mother. She made it through 2 bottles of wine at dinner."

"You keeping a journal?" he asked.

"Yeah. But it's mostly free form swearing. I'm just not the journal type." That wasn't entirely true. I had written stuff down before, but it usually wound up engulfed in flames.

"You gotta keep at it, Grace. Remember the 7 C's for dealing with an alcoholic parent: You can't control it. You can't cure it. You can't feel responsible. "

"That's not a 'C.'"

"The C is in the can't. And you know you want to change your life, or else you wouldn't have gone to—"

I groaned and turned to him. "Don't pretend like you know me. You know? Just because you did some good little deed doesn't give you the right to get all up in my face."

I stalked away. Why couldn't he let it go for half a second? I went to the meeting, I was actually writing in my journal; wasn't that enough?

---

I was turning into such a girl.

It was three days since we had spent any quality time together, and frankly, it was three days too long. I was annoyed with him and didn't want to talk about my mother, but not seeing him wasn't any fun, either.

I IM'ed him before school.

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Hello?_

_GravitityBoy: Hi._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Are we meeting this morning?_

_GravitityBoy: I dunno. You've seen pretty committed to this avoiding me thing._

I rolled my eyes. He could be such a drama queen.

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Just meet me at the usual time, dude._

_GravitityBoy: OK._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U has logged off._

I arrived before him and pulled out the key that I had put on some yarn the night after he gave it to me. Opening the door and placing the key around my neck, I slipped into the room and saw a new, encased display of butterflies. Some of the butterflies were common, and I could recognize them, but most of them I'd never seen. A jar beside the butterfly display contained some unidentifiable creature. Curious, I picked it up and tried to ascertain what sad little species it had been before it met its fate of eternal stasis.

I heard the door open behind me and looked over my shoulder. My skin tingled with anticipation as a smile pulled at my lips. It was about time he got there.

"I think it's really admirable that you want to talk, Grace," he told me.

"Who said anything about talkin'?" I asked and then turned and went to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, caressed the back of his head, and kissed him enthusiastically. His hands came to my waist, but instead of pulling me closer, he pushed me back and looked at me disapprovingly.

I linked my hands behind his neck and looked at him. "You'd rather talk than make out?" I grinned at him. "I think you're the one that needs the help, Girardi," I said, leaning towards him.

"No!" He pushed me further away, completely out of his arms. "I'm not gonna let you use our make out time as a cudgel to avoid this issue."

I turned and walked away from him. Couldn't he get it that I didn't want to have to talk about it all the time? Hadn't three days without so much as a few kisses been long enough? Why did he have to be a killjoy?

"See, this is why I don't talk to anyone. 'Cause now we're all about her. That stupid fifth 'C' is how the alcoholic is controlling my life. Well, I'm not gonna let her. Ok? "

"She already is! Look at us!" he yelled.

"Only 'cause you can't get off it!" My voice matched his.

He looked at me for a moment. "Ok," he said quietly. "So, let me come over to your house, and we'll hang out."

I looked at him, dumbfounded. After his last stunt of coming over, I made it clear in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to try that again. That hadn't changed. Knowing about my mother and witnessing it were two completely things.

"This conversation is over."

It was time to leave, but as I passed him, he grabbed my arm and spun me around.

"Can't you see what you're letting her do to you?!" he asked.

"It's my space!" I shouted back at him "I made the choice! Me!"

He peered down at me, right through me as though he was looking at a five year old who had lied about taking a cookie. "I think you really believe that you're strong," he said coolly, "but you're more terrified than anyone I know."

I turned as he left and slammed the door behind him. How dare he waltz in here and pretend like he knows who I am! He doesn't know anything about living with an alcoholic mother and an indifferent father. Just because he was some kind of genius doesn't mean he had all the answers, and it didn't mean he had the right to tell me what to do.

Tears of frustration welled in my eyes and two escaped and streamed down my face. I slipped off the counter where I was sitting onto the floor. Sitting with my back against the wall, I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in my arms, and brushed away my tears.

"I wish I'd never told him," I said out loud. Anguish pulsated through me as I realized that I was right; that getting involved—wanting, counting on someone caused more pain than being alone ever could.

But my last words rang false in my ears. I didn't want to go back to being alone. I wanted…_him._

I hugged my knees tighter as I tried to talk myself out of this line of thinking, but the images kept coming. The night he walked me home from the hospital and kissed me in the middle of the street. The look of awe and amazement in his eyes after every kiss. The morning he found me near tears, followed me to an empty room, and wrapped himself protectively around me.

That was whom I needed; whom I wished was beside me as I sat alone among the dead animals.

---

I woke up about ten minute later when I heard voices outside my door. Uncoiling myself from an awkward position and stretching my stiff body, I stood and peered through the blinds into the classroom. Students filed in as the time for the first bell to ring neared and the teacher was in front of the classroom, talking to a couple of them. I slipped out the door, turned to lock it, walked to the door, and…

"Excuse me," the teacher called.

So close.

I thought about bolting, but I hesitated a moment too long, and it was evident I heard her. I slowly turned and faced the fifty-year-old woman glaring at me.

"What were you doing in the supply closet?" She asked, shortly.

"I, um….had to return something for Ms. Lischak."

She eyed me, carefully, then nodded and returned to her lesson notes. I left the room, knowing that my reputation was in serious danger. Since when did I run errands for the teacher?

---

Our eyes met as I approached the Physics classroom. He was the last person I wanted to see, but I found myself searching his face, anyway. He was talking to Friedman and Glynis in the last few minutes before the final bell rang, but stopped when he saw me. His eyes clouded over and for a second they reflected the sadness and regret I felt. But then Glynis said something to him, and he looked at her and answered, returned her smile and forgot everything else.

I passed him and the doors to the classroom, refusing to look back.

---

I dumped my bag on the floor by my front door and stomped up to my room. This day had not turned out at all like I hoped. Fighting with my boyfriend sucked. As I stood in my room and wondered what to do with my day, I looked around at my favorite posters and mementos from my childhood. Finally, my eyes fell on a purple rock.

_Would it be so bad if he came over?_

The thought came to me, unexpected and unwelcomed. No one, not even Adam came to my house. Well, Joan came that one time, unannounced, but I only let her in because no one was home, and I was hungry. If I had stood at the door while she prattled on, I would have never gotten anything to eat.

But inviting him over? Not in this lifetime.

_Why?_

OK, that was a stupid question. Sure I liked spending time with him (when he wasn't acting like a complete jerk), and he knew me better than almost anyone, maybe even better than Rove, but if he came over, he'd see—he'd know…

_Know you._

The air rushed out of me.

I sat on my bed and considered that. I've never let anyone in as much as I let him in, but could I keep going? Was I ready to take this last step and let him in all the way?

I spent a few minutes straightening my room and then headed back to school.

---

It was lunch period, and I looked for him in the cafeteria, but didn't see him with Joan or Rove or the Freak duo. As predicted, I found him in the library, hunched over books. Someone was sitting next to him, so approaching him was out of the question. Instead, I squatted on the floor, took out my notebook, and dug around in my bag for a writing utensil. Finally, my hand struck a pen and I grabbed it to write my note.

Nothing came out of the pen.

A kid walked by just then. He looked like a freshman.

"Hey," I whispered. "Got a pen?"

He looked down at me. "Uhh," he pulled a Sharpie from his backpack.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing it and scrawling my note. I stood and crumpled the note, and noticed the kid staring at me. "Scram!" I said, then watched with amusement as his eyes widened and he turned around and scurried away.

I turned back to my task at hand, looked to make sure no one was looking, and then chucked the note at him. It hit him squarely in the back, and he turned and looked at me. I pointed at the note and once I saw him lean down and grab it, I left.

As I walked out of the library, I looked down and noticed the Sharpie in my hand.

---

I met him on the stairs outside the school. We began walking in a silence that was thick and awkward.

"So," he began after he cleared his throat, "what's this about Judith and Joan getting into a fight?"

"Yeah." I laughed, remembering the absurd incident. "Your sister got it into her head that Judith was after Rove. I thought crazy camp was supposed to make her, you know, less crazy. Rove would never leave her. He is as stupid about her as--"

"I am about you?" he finished.

I looked over and saw him looking down and grinning at me. I looked away to hide my smile, and after a minute he spoke. "Your mom…"

I stopped and faced him. "Look, dude," I said, pointing a finger at him, "this invitation is contingent on us not discussing that."

"Grace, you can't keep avoiding this."

"I'm not Girardi, I just don't want to discuss it all the time." I fought to control my temper. I really didn't want to fight about this again.

"You avoid it _all_ the time," he asserted.

"And you bring it up _all _the time."

We stood in the middle of the empty sidewalk, staring at one another. I felt stuck. Trapped. Like we would forevermore have this same conversation, and nothing I did could change that. Almost, I told him to go home, to leave me alone and never bring it up again, but that would have destroyed…everything.

"I went to the meeting, I'm writing in my journal, what more do you want from me?" I asked, deflated.

He swallowed, and then broke my gaze. "I want you to stop hurting," he said, softly.

The irritation and frustration I had been feeling all day fled as I felt his concern wash over me. I shook my head and sighed. "It's not that easy, dude. There's no magic formula."

"I know. I know that something like this takes time, and that it won't go away….maybe ever. But…I want to help…I—"

"You can." I took a step towards him. "You do. But…" I longed to kiss him, to feel his arms around me, but the sidewalk was far too public. "Even when we don't discuss it….when we…do other things…"

He slowly grinned. "Well, anything I can do…" he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and began walking. "Come on geek."

We walked the rest of the way in silence. I don't think either of us could get there fast enough.

---

I opened the door to my room, and watched nervously as he took a couple steps inside and looked around. I hadn't had anyone in my room since Becky spent the night. Even my parents rarely ventured inside my room, letting me have one place in the house where I didn't have to deal with their crap.

"Speak, creep." I told him.

"I like it," he said. "It's, uh... it's a little... tidier than I thought it'd be. "

"I'm not tidy. I just..." wanted to make a good impression? "thought you should be able to walk in here, that's all. "

"That's nice. Thanks."

"Nice. Tidy. Do you have a death wish?" I took a step closer to him, but something caught his attention, and he moved away.

"Oh, dude! Splash." He picked up the stuffed whale I had on a shelf. "The original beanie baby."

I took it from him, embarrassed that he caught sight of one of my childhood toys. "It was the first inflationary bubble of our lifetime." I set it on my desk and walked to the other side of my bed. "My mom stood in line at 5:00 in the morning to get the second run. It opened my eyes to the dangers of capitalism. "

"I have pinchers," he told me.

I looked at him "The lobster?"

I couldn't believe I admitted to knowing the identity of a Beanie Baby, but he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Originally released under the name 'Punchers.' Retired in 1987, which briefly inflated the price to over $5,000. A classic lesson that any economic system is subject to the whims of human emotion."

"And easily exploited by the rapacious elite," I added.

"The cool calculation of science meets the heated imprecision of economic theory," he surmised.

I smiled at him. We were both sitting on my bed now, and as we leaned towards one another, my heart quickened expectantly.

Just as my lips touched his, I heard a noise downstairs and pulled away.

A door closed. "Grace! I'm home!" my mom called.

I had no idea what to do. She wasn't supposed to be home for a couple more hours, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to have my mother and boyfriend meet. I tried to figure out my options, but he spoke first.

"I'll sneak out the window." He got up and started for the window.

We just got there. We hadn't had any time together in days, and I…

"No." I said, standing and intercepting him. I reached out to him. "Stay."

We looked at each other for a few seconds before I leaned forward and gently kissed him.

_I want you here with me._

I stayed near him after the kiss broke, feeling the warmth of his breath, smelling his essence, and taking in the contours of his features.

Realization washed over me. I loved him.

I _loved_ Luke Girardi. The young man standing in front of me, who, despite everything I put him through, stayed. Trembling, I ran my hands up his chest and to the back of his neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him, hoping to convey everything I was feeling. Everything I could never say out loud. He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close to him, and held me tightly. I was sure my knees would have buckled if he hadn't been supporting my weight. His lips moved gently against mine, like warm, soft, caresses of velvet.

Luke pulled away and rested his head against mine. "You're mom will be coming up," he whispered.

"No," I said, breathlessly, "She heads straight for the liquor cabinet."

He pulled back a little, startled. "Grace…"

"Shh." I pulled him nearer, not ready to break our contact, still needing him close to me. "Don't." I looked away, and then back into his eyes. I could get lost in those. "I'll be fine."

He ran his hands along my sides. "Should we go downstairs?" He smiled, but I stiffened and looked away. Despite my revelation, despite how good it felt to have him in my home, I really wasn't ready for that.

He must have sense my mood because he gave me a little squeeze. "You know what," he said, kissing me lightly, "I really need to get going."

I nodded and smiled, relieved that he left me off the hook. "But not through the window, dude. Out the front door."

---

My mother saw Luke leave. I closed the door and turned to see her with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other.

"Who was that, Grace?"

"No one, mom. I have homework," I said as I bounded upstairs.

My dad happened to pick tonight to be home in time for dinner, which meant "family bonding time," aka, my mother gets wasted while my dad pretends it isn't happening and I am forced to witness their charade. Some nights, if I eat quickly and say as little as possible, I can get through the meal pretty much unnoticed. Unfortunately, my mother was almost done with her bottle of wine, but still sober enough to remember that afternoon.

"Guess what," she asked my father halfway through the meal. "Gracie has a beau."

My fork clattered to my plate. "Beau? Mom, please. This isn't a Jane Austen novel."

My dad looked up from his plate and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, he was over this afternoon," my mother said conspiratorially, like the gossips at school.

"Who is this boy, Grace?" my dad asked.

I sighed and pushed my vegetables around on my plate. "Luke," I muttered.

"Girardi? The boy you did the science fair with last year?"

"Yeah," I replied.

He furrowed his brow. "So, are you dating him?"

I rolled my eyes. "Kind of."

He blinked at me. "How long?"

"A while." I so didn't want to talk about this. I picked up my plate and took it to the sink. "I have more homework," I said, escaping the prying eyes of my wardens.

As I lay in bed that night with the covers around me, I tried to settle my jumpy, fluttery stomach. The third degree from my parents was brutal, but it was the day's realization that kept my stomach in turmoil. The idea sat strangely on my mind, yet I knew that it was true.

Finally, as my eyelids grew heavy, I entered into the place where consciousness and slumber meet, and there, I found the peace and contentment

I, despite my best efforts, had fallen in love.


	12. It’s a Wonderful Life

**It's a Wonderful Life**

A/N Shadow gets co-authorship creds for the scene on the bus. And a long overdue shoutout goes to where I snag all of the dialog. If you're reading this, a million thanks!

---

_GravityBoy: I need the key back._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: I'll…….have it tomorrow_

_GravityBoy: I need it tonight._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Why?_

_GravityBoy: I'm supposed to help Lischak clean the room. She wants me there by 7 but she might be a few minutes late, so she expects me to be there and start._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Why didn't you get it from me earlier today?_

_GravityBoy: I….forgot._

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Liar._

_GravityBoy: Excuse me?_

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: You purposefully didn't get it so you'd have an excuse to see me._

_GravityBoy: Did it work?_

_BLACKWIDOW-4-U: I'll meet you at the park in 20._

---

He was leaning against a tree, watching me and grinning like a fool when I approached him. I smothered my own grin and pulled the key out of my pocket. Silently, I handed it to him.

"Do you have to get back right away?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Mom is out. Probably at a bar. She'll come home in a couple hours, completely smashed."

His face fell and I regretted telling him. The concern and pity in his eyes made my stomach clench. I hated it when he got that look. But it was gone as soon as it appeared, and instead of saying anything, he reached for me, drew me to him, and kissed me eagerly. Chills shivered down my spine as I sensed his hunger and fervor. This was so much better than complaining about my mother.

I sighed and pulled away, smiling. "So, the storage room will be occupied tomorrow."

"No," His hands ran along my back, up to my shoulders where he began massaging my muscles. "I told Lischak I needed to be done because I was tutoring a student before school. We'll be done by 8:00. School starts at 9:00, so anytime you wanna show after 8:00…."

"Ha! Like I'd get out of bed that early. Be glad I get here twenty minutes before the first bell, dude."

Luke shrugged and grinned. "I had to try."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're getting kind of greedy with the make out time, buddy."

"Are you complaining?" he asked before he leaned in and kissed me.

Nooooo, it wasn't a complaint, really. Of course I liked being with him. Too much, I sometimes thought. Luke and I had been…whatever it was we've been doing…for several months, and the whole idea still seemed crazy sometimes. Like it couldn't possibly be me doing these things.

Still, with his lips on mine and the feel of his hair in my fingers, I couldn't think of a reason why I'd want it any other way.

---

"Stop the capitalist pigs! Down with neo-facism!"

I watched the boy, barely past puberty, attempt to hand the fliers to the drones that passed him on their way to school. He stood just beyond the school's property line, outside of Price's tyrannical jurisdiction.

"Hey," I called as I approached him. "What's this?"

"An anarchist meeting. Come and learn how our government oppresses and manipulates the people for its own self-interests."

I took a flier from him and studied it as I continued towards the school.

"What a loser," Judith said, coming up beside me. "Who would plan an anarchy meeting for a Friday night?"

I shot her a dirty look. "Dude, social injustice is something that happens around the clock. It doesn't take a break, and neither can we if we really want to change things."

"Yeah, but Friday is date night! Time to let loose and kick back with your honey." She waggled her eyebrows.

I frowned at her. "What's that…"

"I gotta go find JoJo. She's supposed to be learning how to juggle."

I watched as she ran ahead towards the school. The sum of those two together equaled complete and total insanity.

I saw them later on my way to the biology closet. Joan, once again, was moaning about the drama in her life that is Rove.

"I don't need a fancy date," she whined. "I mean, we're fine the way we are."

"Yeah, real fine," Judith replied. "You thought me and Adam were hooking up."

I turned and faced them as we continued walking. Heh. She had a point.

"Right. Occasionally, not so fine," Joan admitted, "but... What if he looks across the table and realizes that I'm not worth it?"

There it was, the whole problem with dating. What was that he told me? A chemical goes off that eliminates reason, and we turn into drones who attempt to produce society's picture of the perfect couple. It was crazy.

"Could happen," I commented. "The whole dating ritual is barbaric. It's all about compromise, the slow death of self."

Joan shot me a dirty look. "Way to make my first date special, Grace."

And yet, even knowing that didn't prevent it from happening. What was with relationships turning everyone into nothing more than a mush-brained, neurotic, illogical, puddle of goo?

"I'm going to have to start another women's movement. The first one obviously didn't take," I lamented, taking off to find the culprit of my own sad state of irrationality.

---

I opened the door and saw him sitting on the floor with his legs stretched in front of him and a textbook in his lap.

"Is the coast clear?" I whispered.

He shut his book, laid it by his side, and smiled up at me. "Yup. Just been studying before you decided to make an appearance."

I smirked at him, and decided to have a little fun. "Well, I can see you're busy, so I won't interrupt…"

I made a move towards the door but he caught my hand and yanked me towards him. The force of pulling me down made me stumble in an effort to not fall, but his long legs were in my way and I tripped and landed on his legs anyway. He looked at me, wide-eyed and apologetic, but then I let out a small laugh and he dissolved into a wide grin.

"Well, that's one way to get you here," He murmured, pulling me towards him. "Comfortable?"

I nodded and leaned towards him, settling my hands loosely at his sides. He smiled a little uncertainly, which caused my stomach to drop with pleasure. After all this time and he still looked at me shyly every once in a while.

He brought his lips to mine and smiled against them before he kissed me in earnest. I kissed him back, taking in the texture of his lips and the feel of his hands at my side. Yeah, this was definitely something I could get used to.

I was turning into Girardi. The female one who should have her head examined.

"Mmm," I broke our kiss. "Your sister needs help. Again."

"Why?" Luke kissed me again.

"She and Rove are planning some fancy schmancy date." He kissed me again. "They are so seriously twisted, dude. "

"Why do you care if Joan and Adam go on a date?" His lips met mine.

"Because," I said against him and nudged him away, "they're just mindlessly following these random sociological constructs."

"Well," He kissed me before continuing. "I was going to ask you out. Tonight." He smiled and gave a short, nervous laugh.

A date? As in picking me up and going somewhere together and walking me home? A tingling, unfamiliar sensation bubbled inside of me.

"Who do you think you're twisting tongues with, dude"

He held a flier in front of him. "Schlock festival at the aero. The all-time worst films-- _Plan 9, Robot Monster, Catwoman From the Moon_. I mean. These are serious classics."

I could imagine it now; a theater full of people, laughing and snickering at the lame movies. It sounded like it could be a blast. Unfortunately…

"I have a meeting tonight," I told him, pulling out a flier of my own.

Luke took it and read. "Anarchists unite" He looked up at me. "Isn't that contradictory?"

For a genius, he really….wasn't. "Anarchy is about shedding false conceptions, so it is not at all contradictory, brain drain. Maybe if you came, you'd be less politically dense."

"Well, anarchists should have an appreciation for the chaotic ineptitude of schlock cinema. It's the very definition of anarchy."

OK, that was going too far. Using ideology for personal gain was bad enough in the Beltway. To use it as a negotiating mechanism in our relationship was inexcusable.

"Don't twist political philosophy to manipulate me into a date."

He furrowed his brow. "Well, isn't that what you're doing? Trying to get me to your meeting?"

OK, time to go. I reached out, grabbed is jaw, brought him closer, and said, "Find new lips, creep."

I scrambled up and opened the door as he protested. "Come on, grace. We're supposed to, uh, 'harmonize our divergent agendas.'" I turned and waved at him, amused at his animated persistence. "You can see the strings on the flying saucers."

---

The bus smelled of sweat and cigarettes as it carried me towards my meeting. A few teenagers were in the back, yelling and roughhousing and one couple was doing things Luke and I didn't even do behind closed doors.

I kept my eyes forward to prevent keep myself from staring at the exhibition. As I slouched in my seat I thought about the meeting I was headed to. The idea of sitting around and listening to people tell me what I already knew was wrong with the system sounded less appealing than it did that morning. It's not like they ever came up with a plan. They just talked about it so they'd feel virtuous. It really was a stupid way to spend a Friday night.

A woman in her sixties with a blond blob and granny glasses perched on the end of her nose kept catching my gaze. It was always fun playing this game with obnoxious strangers: they'd stare at you and you pretend not to notice until you finally look at them and then they glance away. Except this lady never looked away. She kept right on staring, turning her lips upwards into a hint of a smile and holding my gaze as if she _knew me._ It was things like this that made me detest the bus.

Finally, having had enough, I did the unthinkable. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"Do you like it?" She asked gesturing to the thing in her lap. "It's a sweater I'm knitting."

"Yeah, sure." Why had I talked to this person, and why couldn't I tell her off like I did with everyone else?

I looked at the sweater, a muted, deep blue and a de-saturated green. The colors, one soothing and subtle, the other vivid and audacious, gave the sweater a comfortable, inviting look. I studied her hands as they worked, and noticed that on the needle, there were two separate colors of yarn. It was by her hooking and pulling that the two threads formed their complimentary pattern.

She looked at me again. "It's pretty, isn't it? It's amazing what you can do with two separate, seemingly different things. With a little effort and patience, a unique and beautiful pattern arises."

I nodded, not sure why she had told me all of that, and less sure why it struck me. I turned and faced the window and watched the city night pass us by. Although she was now intently focused on her knitting, the image of her eyes burned in my mind. Piercing, yet warm and full of kindness, they reminded me of another pair that brought me solace.

The bus pulled to a stop, and the lady gathered her stuff and stood. She looked at me one last time, smiled, and said, "Well, dear, this is our stop."

My eyes narrowed at her term of endearment, and the completely motherly tone she took with me. Then I looked out the window and noticed we were near the theater. My lips twitched upwards, and I got up and left the bus.

Judith was right. Friday night is date night.

---

After procuring my popcorn with a guy with blue hair and a red face (the face was from acne), I let myself into the theater where I was greeted with chants of cornball lines and oddly shaped heads. I stood next to the door and let my eyes readjust while I took in the freaks I was going to spend my evening with. Only a bunch of geek head gamers would think this was the place to be on a Friday night.

I thought that finding my own geek head was going to be difficult, until I spotted his profile near the back. "Girardi," I tapped him on the shoulder, but he looked at me and I realized that it wasn't him, just someone that looked like him.

Man that was scary.

With all the crazy costumes and masks, how in the world was I ever gonna find him? I grabbed the mask of a kid, swearing that if that was him under there, the whole thing was off. It wasn't though, so my pride and his neck were saved.

"Girardi!" I whispered, and continued to scan the crowd. I turned to the middle section and stood, face to face with the last person I ever wanted to see.

"Missing someone, Marge?"

I glared at Friedman as he stood there and smugly ate his popcorn. There wasn't a way out of this; he'd heard me calling for Luke, and of course he would use it first chance he got. Refusing to wilt under his stare, I asked, "Where is he?"

Friedman smirked, a ridiculous site in the helmet. "What was that?" He asked, in feigned innocence.

"Don't play dumb, scumball, where's Girardi?"

He shrugged. "We came together, but when we were standing in line, he all of a sudden took off." Friedman broke into a wide, knowing smile. "He went looking for you, didn't he? There's hope for brainy types yet."

"Ha! Him, yes, you, no."

"Sure," he said. He slid out of the row and made his way to the exit.

"The helmet is lame!" I hissed as he passed.

He turned and smirked at me. "It's Luke's!"

I despised him.

I stood in the aisle as I tried to decide what to do. I had spent nearly eight bucks to get in, and didn't feel like going home. I turned to find that there were hubcaps on strings on the screen. Eight dollars for hubcaps on strings! Two seconds of watching the movie revealed terrible acting, and the room inside the round spaceship was perfectly square.

I had to see this.

I sat in Friedman's row, and when he returned with a new bucket of popcorn he wisely said nothing about my being there. Instead he sat next to me and we watched the movie in silence.

--

The movies really were horrible. Cheesy music with cheesy writing and cheesy special effects. Movies like this should have never been made.

"This is totally inept, dude," I said to Friedman during the second movie. "It makes stupid look stupid."

"I know." He agreed. "And yet it endures. An evolutionary marvel."

"I'm so on board," I said, as I watched the robot monster get blown away.

"Yes," I heard Friedman say after a minute. I looked at him.

"What?"

"I can see it now. You and Luke."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, if you give us up, you'll never have kids."

"Yeah. I got that."

Friedman's being almost congenial to me felt very strange after being at each other's throats for years.

"Grace?" I looked over and saw Luke with a quizzical expression. "I went to the anarchy meeting looking for you."

"I came here for the movies," I told him as I stood up.

"Yeah?" he asked with a small smile.

I nodded, and happened to glance down at his feet, which were clad in only socks.

"What happened to your shoes?"

"They were made by kids in Central America." I looked at him as I tried to figure out the relevance. "I burned them," he told me.

I could just picture that scene. He would innocently walk into a meeting looking for me and be met with people angrily demanding that he burn his shoes, accusing him of supporting slave labor. The poor guy probably thought he was lucky to get out alive.

I moved down as he stepped past Friedman, and when he came to me I leaned forward to kiss him. I think I surprised him a little, kissing him like that in front of everyone. But I didn't care, he finally made it, and I was glad to see him.

Apparently some dude in the back felt differently, though, because he called out to us. "Hey, lovebirds, sitdown!"

I glared into the blackness behind us, but the source of the comment couldn't be seen. They were all creeps, though, for hooting and hollering at us. So I tossed my popcorn at them before we sat down.

His hand found its way into mine as we sat there and watched the rest of the movie. I noticed he looked at me sideways, as if he was trying to gauge my reaction. I pretended to keep my attention on the screen, but I instinctively squeezed his hand a little. We spent the rest of the time like that as we traded comments and joked over the final film.

---

We left the theater a couple hours later, laughing over the lines, arguing over which one was the lamest. Friedman and Luke fell into reciting every line from Catwoman From the Moon while I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and turned it on. It beeped that there was a message for me, and I figured it was my father. I didn't want to talk to him then, not after a night of having fun for once, but I decided I should see what time he called, anyway. Looking at the caller ID, I realized that it wasn't my father after all.

It was Rove.

Frowning, I checked my voice mail. Adam doesn't call me that often, and tonight he was supposed to be on his date with Joan. I walked away from the guys a bit so I could hear.

"Grace," he sounded more upset than I had heard him in a long time. "Grace, something's happened. Judith was stabbed, and it's bad. She might not make it, and Ja—Jane's at the hospital with her, and I couldn't stay there, and…it's bad and…I thought you'd wanna know…"

Stunned I turned towards my companions as they continued bantering. Luke noticed my expression immediately and stopped short.

"Grace?" He came over and laid a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong? Is…is it your…"

"No," I said, wanting to reassure him and keep him from saying too much in front of Friedman.

Friedman. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I had dismissed his obsession over Judith, saying that memorizing Hamlet was a stupid idea and he needed to let it go. But he had done it, and now I had to tell him that she was in the hospital fighting for her life.

"It…That was Rove—" I began.

"Joan!" Luke exclaimed.

"No!" I said forcefully. I needed him to be calm so I could say what I needed to. He needed to be strong. "It's…Judith." Friedman's eyes grew wide. "She was stabbed. That's all Adam said. She's in the hospital. It looks bad," I finished in a whisper.

Friedman turned sheet-white, and his eyes flicked between Luke and I, as though he was lost, and was looking at us for the answers. I looked up at Luke, whose hand was still comfortingly on my shoulder.

"If there was a stabbing my dad will know about it. We can go to my house and see if…see if there is any news."

The three of us set off towards the Girardis', too stunned and worried to speak.

---

Luke opened the front door. "Hello??"

His dad was in the kitchen on the phone. "We got the name of the people she was with, we'll question them and find out who did this.……book them for murder one…." He walked into the dining room and saw us. "I gotta go…..yeah…….talk to you later." He hung up the phone.

"Dad?" Luke asked.

"Luke." Mr. Girardi walked over to us. "Kids…I….I'm so sorry. Judith died about forty five minutes ago."

A stifled moan came from beside me, and I was vaguely aware that Friedman rushed out the door. Luke and I followed him silently. Friedman's back was to us and his shoulders silently shook. My own eyes burned, and I looked over and saw Luke struggling to keep his composure. After a while, Friedman's shoulders stilled and he sat down on the porch where Luke and I joined him.

Time froze and raced by as we waited for Joan and her mom to get there. When they arrived, I got up and went to her.

"Sucks," was the only think I could think of to say.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Luke and Friedman joined us on the sidewalk, and the four of us tried to make sense of what happened.

"I could've done the play for her tonight," Friedman said. "I should've just asked her."

"Are you saying it's your fault?" Joan asked. "Is that what you're saying, Friedman, what, do you think you're god?" She got angrier with every word.

"I just meant if I would have asked—" He started.

"How about me, huh? Maybe if I hadn't gone on that stupid date-- maybe I killed her!"

What was with the blaming game? Getting angry with Friedman was stupid.

"Dude, chill," I told her.

"Why?! Why should I chill?!" Joan yelled.

I didn't have an answer for that. Nothing made sense, so why should we try to remain calm and level-headed when each of us felt like hitting something?

Luke looked at his sister, took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Joan," he whispered. Her face crumpled as he awkwardly pulled her into a hug. Joan wrapped her arms around him for a second before nodding and slowly walking to the porch.

My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was my house.

"I gotta…" My eyes met Luke's, and comprehension filled his. He nodded and sat down next to Joan.

I stepped up on the porch and answered the call. "Hello?" I closed my eyes and hoped there wasn't some crisis. Not tonight.

"Grace?" My dad asked. "Where are you?"

I sighed. "I'm at Joan's, dad. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. We just got home and didn't know where you were. Will you be home soon?"

"I dunno. An hour or so."

"OK, well, have fun."

Right.

"You know what I hate?" I asked as I joined the Girardis on the steps. "Monday morning, there's gonna be all these memorials and flowers and stupid ass teddy bears."

"Yeah." Joan agreed. "From a bunch of people who didn't even know her."

"She told me she collected Pez dispensers," Luke informed us.

He looked at Joan and offered a small smile. Leave it to him to point out in his completely random way that Judith knew more people than we realized.

Adam came up then, and Joan went to meet him. I didn't pay much attention until Joan yelled at him and pushed him. I stood, ready to intervene if I had to and I guess Luke had the same thought because he stood up too. Adam seemed able to calm her down though, and as they spoke quietly, Friedman began to recite Hamlet.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

doubt that the sun doth move;

doubt truth to be a liar;

but never doubt I love.

O dear Ophelia,

I have not art to reckon my groans;

but that I love thee best,

o most best...

believe it. Adieu."

In that last few hours Friedman had gone from being a complete moron to almost decent, and now he was totally crushed. It was almost too much to bear. Not even he deserved this. No one did.

"Just give it up. Hold hands or something," Friedman said. He came and grabbed Luke's arm and then mine Luke's fingers wrapped around mine and before I knew it, Friedman pulled us into a three-way hug,

Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around Friedman and squeezed the tiniest bit. It felt weird to hug Friedman, of all people, especially in front of everybody. What was worse was I was having a hard time keeping it together.

"Ok, this is just weird," I said as I pulled on his arm. He let go of us and smiled uncomfortably. I tried to discreetly wipe my tears away, but Luke looked over and smiled and squeezed my hand.

We stood there for a while, and I wondered why this had to happen. It took me a while to warm up to Judith, but I had. And she brought something out in Friedman that I never knew existed. Joan was a little nuttier, a little more reckless around Judith, but it was evident that their bond was strong. Luke and Adam were deeply shaken, each trying to come to terms with it in their own way. It didn't make sense.

Why?

---

"I gotta get going," I said a while later. We had moved into the living room. Joan and Adam were on the couch, Friedman was in the chair and I sat on the piano bench. Luke stood on Kevin's ramp, leaning against the railing.

He looked over at me.

"Let me walk you home," he said, quietly.

"No, you ought to stay here," I told him, nodding toward Friedman.

"Then let Kevin drive you home."

This conversation was getting dangerously revealing, but Joan and Adam seemed oblivious to anything around them.

I shook my head. "I want to walk. It short, and…" I needed time to myself, before I got home. He must have gotten that, though, because he didn't press it.

I said goodbye to Joan, who was still out of it, and Luke followed me onto the porch.

"Crazy how everything can change so quickly," he commented.

"Yeah."

We stood there for a while in silence, lost in our own memories of Judith. I remembered the night of the party, of finding her passed out on her living room floor with hundreds of people around her. She could have died that night, but didn't. The irony of her dying a few short months later could only be the cosmos' idea of a cruel joke.

"You going to be ok?" he asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's just…We weren't close like your sister, but still….it's weird to think I talked to her just this morning."

He nodded, and we walked to the top of the stairs. I turned toward him and briefly wished that I could tell him how I felt. If I was freer, more open with my feelings, I'd have told him how grateful I was to know him, to have him in my life. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and looked up at him.

"I'll see you later," I said.

He nodded and held my gaze before he leaned down and kissed me lightly. "Good night, Grace," he whispered.

As I walked home that night, I pulled my jacket tightly around me to ward off the biting November air.

Life sucked.


	13. Revealed

A/N: OK, folks, this chapter was a lot harder to get out than I thought it would be, and I was anxious to get it done. Now that it is done, I'm a little sad. Why? Cuz this is the final chapter. For a while, at least. There are other stories that I want to work on, so I'm going to focus on those. I don't trust my multitasking abilities enough to try to keep up with this once, hence, the hiatus. Don't look for anything too soon though; the ideas I have are big projects and I might decide to post my story all at once (and yes, they're G/L…what else is there). But know that I am still writing, still reading, and still loving this fabulous pair!

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, guys. I have been greatly motivated by them. I now give you…

**Revealed**

Monday was as horrible as I imagined. People that never even talked to Judith were crying and hugging and sending Joan and the rest of us fleeting looks of sympathy and curiosity. Like they knew what Joan was going through. Like they cared.

"Can you believe this?" I said to Joan as we headed through the halls. "A person they hardly knew existed died and _their_ world is coming to an end."

"Yeah, I'm suddenly the freak show who lost her friend," Joan agreed as she opened her locker. "Like my life wasn't already screwed up enough." Joan glanced to her side and noticed a couple of girls staring at her and whispering. "Can I help you?" she snapped.

When they continued staring I moved to Joan's other side, "Can't you take a hint? Shut your jaws, turn around and move on!" They both sneered at me before they turn around and walked the other way. "Morons," I said as I watched them go.

"Totally," Joan replied.

"Uh, listen," I began. "I think I'm going to pass on the service this afternoon." Judith's parents decided to forego the huge funeral, opting instead for a simple graveside ceremony. "It seems more like for family and close friends."

Joan stared at me blankly.

"I mean, you're going, right?" I asked.

"Why would I go to that?" she asked, looking at me like I was insane before walking away.

I looked after her. That girl was in serious denial.

"Hey," Luke said, coming from behind me. "It's a mad house."

"To say the least," I muttered. "This week can't go by fast enough."

"Yeah….hey…" He hesitated, like he had something to say but wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"Out with it," I ordered.

"Friday is my birthday."

"Really?" It occurred to me that I should know when my boyfriend's birthday was, but we were barely on speaking terms last year, and it hadn't come up since. I quirked a grin at him. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, we usually have a family dinner."

I stopped and eyed him, knowing where this was going. "And this concerns me how?"

He glanced away and lifted his hands. "I was hoping you'd come."

I stared at him for a minute before I shook my head and continued down the stairs.

He followed me. "I know it's a lot to ask."

Understatement much? "Dude! Licking your floors would be a lot to ask."

"One dinner."

"No."

"It's my birthday dinner," he pleaded, "my dad makes lasagna."

"I'll get you a present," I answered. How could have his mind on his birthday right now, anyway? "Besides, someone we knew is actually dead. How can you even think of celebrating?"

"It's _dinner_, Grace," he insisted. "You know, nobody's going to do the limbo or wear stupid hats."

He was missing the point. Going to his birthday dinner was like saying, "Hi my name is Grace, and I'm dating Luke Girardi."

"Look," I told him, "once your sister knows, the world knows. We might as well get married."

"Joan won't figure it out," he countered.

Birthday dinners always equal more than friends. He's the genius; he should know that. "She's not that stupid."

"Stupid, no. Self-absorbed? Paris Hilton has more perspective. I'll say we have to study later," he offered, and then continued to argue his case "It's my 16th birthday, you know, the one where you get a car. I mean, I'm just getting a diving watch. But, still, it's a watershed event. "

Diving watch? The guy once told me he hadn't been swimming in like three years.

"I thought you were afraid of the ocean," I inquired.

He ignored me. "Grace, this is what I want for my birthday, ok? Not a present, not a rain check," the level of his voice increased as his agitation grew. "Not 5 more minutes of make-out time."

"Shut up!" I hissed and rushed off. What was with him negotiating our relationship in public?

"This is a deal-breaker, Grace!" he called after me.

I whipped around to glare at him, but he saw Joan and Adam and bolted toward the Physics classroom. Not taking any chances, I darted across the hall to completely avoid them.

* * *

My mom was going to be home that afternoon, which made the prospect of staying away as long as possible appealing. As I waited for someone I could stand to come along, I messed around on my skateboard in front of the school.

"Ahh, applied Physics," Luke said, coming up and leaning against the half wall by me as I did a grind. "Newton's third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. When you press down on the skateboard, it ricochets and pivots..."

"OK, Einstein," I said, getting off the board and handing it to him. "Give it your best shot."

"Uh, maybe later," he hedged. I smirked and did another ollie. "How did you do on the test?" he asked.

I landed, stepped off the board and shrugged. "Fine I guess."

Adam came over with his girlfriend in tow who was whining about the test. "I'm such a loser. I should sign up for underwater basket weaving."

"No, you're not a loser." Adam said sincerely. Man, didn't the guy ever get tired of being perpetually supportive? "We can go over it, Jane, I'm sure if we…"

"No, not a chance!" Joan interrupted. "The only thing I wanna do is veg out in front of the tv and not think. Anyone up for Ever After?"

"Ugh, no! I'm going home," I declared, grumpy that there were no better options.

"No, Grace, come on, we should all just relax," Joan offered.

"You don't wanna just make out with Rove?" I asked.

"Well, yeah." Joan admitted, "but we can do that later."

"Too much information, Girardi! No chick flicks. Something cool."

"Pi," Luke suggested.

"No way. I get enough geek living with you," Joan shot back.

"Spider Man" I suggested.

"Fine, we'll watch some comic book movie," Joan relented.

"Good, let's go," Luke said.

* * *

"The science in this movie makes no sense, you know," Luke commented as he popped the popcorn. "The idea that a bite from a genetically engineered spider could endow someone with powers is…"

"In the comics, it's a radio-active spider, not a genetically mutated one," I said.

"That doesn't make sense either. Why would a radio-active spider change Peter's genetic makeup?"

"COM-ICS!" Joan exclaimed. "Geeze, can't you suspend disbelief for two seconds?" She pulled out four fruit rollups and tossed one to each of us. "It's called fantasy."

"Yes, but fantasy based on scientific fact is more interesting, because you can try to determine the probability of such a case happening. There is no way that Spiderman could ever exist, based on the events leading up to his incarnation." Luke poured the butter on the popcorn and went into the other room.

Joan watched him leave and shook her head. "Weirdo," she muttered and followed him.

Rove looked at me and smiled and shrugged and we joined the siblings. Luke had claimed his place on the end of the couch and Joan was putting the DVD in. Luke looked over at me with a raised eyebrow and I smothered a smile. The last time we did this, sharing the couch wasn't an option, but I figured it could be managed now.

"OK, let's get this show on the road," Joan said, picking up the remote and sitting on the couch next to her brother.

I paused in my tracks and shot Joan a dirty look while Luke frowned at her. Joan was too busy stuffing her face with popcorn to notice, though. Sighing, I let Adam take a seat by Joan and I sat on the other side of him.

As the movie began, it occurred to me that Toby McGuire was an excellent choice for portraying Peter Parker. He was good at portraying an average, somewhat awkward guy that oozed sex appeal.

"Wow," Joan said as I took a drink of my pop. "Peter Parker is as much of a geek as you are, Luke. No wonder he never had a girlfriend."

I coughed and sputtered on my drink.

"Sorry" I managed. I continued to hack up a lung for a few minutes before retaining control. "Stuff went down the wrong pipe."

* * *

He was waiting for me the in the biology closet two mornings later.

"Hey," I said, sitting next to him.

"Hi," he said, as he glanced up from what he was writing.

I sat next to him and waited while he finished whatever he was working on. After a couple of minutes he sighed and put his notebook aside and looked at me with pensive expression. I put my hands on his arms and kissed him. He returned my kiss, but it was almost mechanical.

I pulled away and looked at him. "Where are you, dude?" I asked.

He leaned back and shook his head. "I have to give a disposition tomorrow for the lawsuit. I've been trying to get my thoughts together."

I sat back on my hands. "It's a product of the corrupted judicial system. The accident victim gets sued and criminal punishment is meted out directly inverse to how rich the accused is."

"Yeah. You know, it was bad enough watching it happen. But now, everyone is reliving it and …it's like we're all thrust right back into that place." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "No one needs this right now. We were all finally moving on."

I had never seen him so agitated over his family, and had no idea that the lawsuit was causing him so much anxiety.

"Dude, your family's going to get through this." I didn't know of a stronger, better family. The guy suing them was a creep, but I had no doubt the Girardis would pull through it.

Luke shrugged. "It's a mess, you know? Judith and now the deposition. I don't know what to do."

"Well," I rested my hands on his knees. "You can start by kissing me."

He looked at me like I was crazy, but his expression slowly melted into a smile and he brought his lips to mine.

* * *

"You're sure you want to do this?" Luke asked.

"Sure, I can handle it," Friedman answered, as the five of us headed towards Physics. "How hard can it be? You just jump around a lot."

"Friedman, gymnastics takes a lot of upper body strength," Luke said, "It takes years of training and.."

"And you in tights isn't anything I want to ever see," I finished.

"Think what you want, Marge, women find the Friedman hot." Friedman said.

"Shut up, putz." I turned and smacked him on the head before I headed into the classroom.

"Your girlfriend is vicious," I heard Friedman tell Luke.

* * *

"He actually did it, huh?" I asked, sitting next to Joan on the bleacher as Friedman jumped and grabbed the rings.

"Yeah, amazing," Joan answered. "Guy's willing to make a total fool of himself."

"Takes guts though, you gotta admit that," Luke said.

Yeah, it always takes guts to look like an idiot.

"It's not guts, it's stupid," Joan replied.

"Joan, Friedman is expanding his horizons. It's a classic case of the human spirit attempting to.."

"Bored now," Joan interupred, "I've told you before, dogboy, nobody cares." She rolled her eyes towards me. "What a loser."

I looked at Luke and then glared at his sister who was studying her nails. Without the ability to say anything without looking obvious, I changed the subject.

"The guy is insane," I said as we watched him hang from the rings and then fall. "Some kind of breakdown."

"It's because of Judith," Joan replied.

"Which is kind of sweet," Glynis said. I shook my head. Sweet is not a term that applies to Friedman.

"It's not about Judith," Luke said, "It's about price. He needs a sport for Harvard.'

"It's curiously appealing picturing him in maroon and white," Glynis commented.

OK, I got that the girl suffered a setback last spring, but seriously.

I looked over at her "Is everyone having a breakdown?"

She glared at me, but she didn't hold my gaze very long. I was pretty sure I scared her. I was OK with that.

I watched the gymnasts on the floor as Friedman waited for his turn on the vault and Adam and Joan discussed college plans. I was here only for the amusement factor, so I silently hoped that he'd give us more material.

When his turn cam, he ran, jumped on the platform, planted his hands on the vault, and did the splits right on it. Funniest thing I ever did see.

"Holy future Friedmans!" Glynis said, jumping up and bounding towards him. "Walk it off, Harvardian! Back in the saddle!"

I could tell that Joan was moping about something, but I was still too annoyed with her to really care. I got that Luke was her brother and she only saw him as a geek, but did she have to rag on him all the time? Luke deserved better.

A lot better.

Joan soon left and Adam loyally followed, leaving me alone with Luke. I couldn't believe I was about to do this. I knew that somehow, it would be the demise of our secret, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.

Still, it had been a crappy week for everyone, and it _was_ his birthday.

I sighed and said, "I will not sing. I will not wear a dress."

He didn't say anything, and I wasn't sure he heard me. Then, "What?"

"Those are the terms," I muttered through tightly-pressed lips.

"So you're saying yes?" he asked.

I could hear the glee in his voice and suddenly remembered his stupid ultimatum. I glared at the back of his head. "And it has nothing to do with that asinine threat. I will do all the breaking up around here. Got it?"

I gathered my things, and gave his head a nudge as I walked by. He could be a complete and total dweeb sometimes. My reputation was shot if anyone found out that I _liked_ it.

He called after me, "Absolutely."

* * *

The next afternoon, I flopped on my bed, tired and frustrated. I had spent several hours wandering little shops in downtown Arcadia, looking for an adequate gift. I really had no idea what to give him, all I knew was that the gifts he had given me weren't ordinary. They held messages that he knew I wasn't ready to hear but he wanted to tell me, anyway. There were things I had to say too, things I couldn't put into words yet, but finding the right thing to say them proved impossible. What could he possibly want from me?

A girlfriend.

I shot up from my bed and went to my nightstand, opened the top drawer and pulled out the paper that was folded into quarters and lying on top of all my junk. It had actually been quite a while since I had looked at it. I stored it in my nightstand for safekeeping, but as I read it over, I shook my head and laughed. We had broken about half of the rules, and more importantly, I had violated the spirit of the thing by letting him into my life and world further than I ever thought possible.

As the great Doc Ock said, love should never be a secret.

* * *

I relented and let him pick me up that night. I figured I'd intercept him at the door, and we'd be on our way, so it wouldn't matter what shape my mother was in. I tried not to think about the evening ahead of me because every time I did I felt like throwing up. I knew I had been to that house a million times—was familiar enough with all of the occupants in it, but this was different. Tonight, I was going as Luke's girlfriend, to meet THE FAMILY.

I sat on my couch with my head between my knees.

He didn't know tonight was the night everything would be revealed. I wasn't going to tell him until after dinner and during cake and ice cream and presents or whatever the Girardis do. I pictured myself pulling the contract out and silently handing it to him. I was sure he'd look at me with confusion, and I would just shrug and tell him he could do what he wanted, but I recommended using it as a burnt offering.

My doorbell rang promptly at six. I sprung from the couch, grabbed my jacket, and called 'Later!' to anyone who was in hearing distance. As I paused on the porch to slip my coat on, I looked up to see him grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" I demanded, hoping that he hadn't noticed that I had changed and did my hair differently.

He looked at me for a minute, as if considering the consequences of saying something, and then shook his head. "Nothing," he said, smiling widely.

I rolled my eyes in what I hoped looked more like annoyance than the embarrassment I felt. "Let's jet," I told him.

* * *

He turned to me as we approached his driveway.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yup."

We opened the kitchen door, and I steeled myself to be met with the entire clan sitting at a full spread of food, and who knows what else. Probably streamers, knowing the Girardi's.

"Just in time, buddy," Luke's dad called.

We stepped into the dining room. Instead of the family and a celebration for Luke waiting for us, there were only his parents and a guest.

"Hey. Oh, Luke," his mom said, "you brought Grace. Uh, Luke, this is dad's boss Lucy Preston. Our son Luke and his friend Grace Polk."

"Study partner," I corrected automatically. The sight before threw me off balance, and my instincts to hide took over.

"That's not lasagna," Luke stated.

"Nope," his dad replied, "Mom's leg of lamb. Grab a seat."

Luke looked at table before turning to me with hurt in his eyes.

"I'm not hungry," he said, as he left.

I turned back to find that everyone at the table had their eyes on me, including the stranger that gave me the creeps. Needing to offer an excuse, to avoid embarrassment and to avoid making a scene, I said. "We have a lot of work to do," before I left.

I followed Luke as he slammed open the garage door. He stormed to the back of the garage and leaned against the workbench. I stood watching him for a while, having no idea what to do or say.

"Hey…" I began.

"It's so typical!" He exclaimed whirling around. "You know, most of the time when the world revolves around Kevin or Joan, I deal with it. I get that I'm not the star athlete or paralyzed…or…or the girl, but for one day a year…" He trailed off, turned around and moved to the furthest corner of the room, as though to widen the distance between us.

I sat on a stool and studied the back of his head. I had no idea that his family made him feel that way. His parents completely ignoring him on his birthday clashed with every other image I had of them. They were the kind of parents I wished I had as a kid. Ever present, ever supportive. I guessed it just went to show that all parents are capable of screwing up their kids' lives.

Still, the Girardi parentals looked like an attractive option from my view.

I still had no idea what to say to him. I thought about giving him the contract then, but I was afraid he would think it was a pity present; that I did it not because I wanted to, but because I knew it would make him feel better.

It was more than that.

I don't know how long we had been sitting in silence when I heard the door open behind me. I turned and saw Joan walk in. "Ah. So Luke and Grace really are in the garage," she said. "I thought mom was having a mini-stroke. What are you doing in here?"

"Studying," I replied, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

"No...you're not studying," she observed in an uncharacteristic burst of insight. "You're pouting because everybody forgot your birthday."

Luke looked at his sister. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted, "but... it's the deposition."

"So it's all about Kevin again. That makes it ok?" Luke shot back.

"Dude. Just take it easy on them, ok?" Joan answered. "When they remember, they'll feel so guilty, they'll buy you a car."

I looked over at him and smiled. He did say he wanted a car…

I looked at Joan when she pulled a kite from behind her back. "Didn't have time to wrap it," she admitted.

Luke got up, went over to her, and took it. "The kite," he said, clearly affected by her gift. "I never got it."

"Yeah," Joan said, "Well... it's only a few years late. Sue me."

Luke laughed, and it occurred to me that this was my chance, since the party clearly wasn't going to happen. I had told him that telling Joan was like telling the world, so really, she was the only one that had to be there.

"I got you something, too," I told him. Taking out the contract, I walked over to him and held it up for him to read.

"Our secrecy contract," he stated.

Holding his gaze so he would understand, I ripped the thing in half. He looked at me with surprise and mild confusion, so to clarify my point, I reached up, took his face, brought it to me, and kissed him. It wasn't a quick kiss, either. I wanted him—and Joan—to get my full meaning.

I pulled away and looked up at him. We must have had the same thought, though, because we both looked over at Joan. She looked from Luke, to me, and back to Luke before shuddering violently.

"OK, I think I just walked into the twilight zone. Come on," Joan said, taking the kite from Luke and heading towards the door. "Let's see if this thing is as amazing as you say." She turned and looked at me again, opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it and spun around with another shudder.

I laughed out loud as the door closed behind her. "Dude, I think we scarred her for life," I said gleefully.

Luke chuckled and the pulled me to him, wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

"Thank you, Grace," he murmured into my hair.

I closed my eyes and returned his embrace as his gratitude for what I did washed over me. I knew he would like it, but I didn't expect the overwhelming happiness he radiated as we stood there. More embarrassed than I liked, I pulled slightly away.

"Come on, let's go make sure that your sister doesn't destroy the thing."

He looked down at me, smiling, and I couldn't help but return it.

As we went to join Joan, he told me, "This kite is amazing, Grace, it needs hardly any wind. The material is rip-stop nylon so it can take a real beating and…"

* * *

His parents must have clued in at some point, because they wound up standing in the front yard watching Luke fly his kite. He was pretty adept at getting the kite to do some cool stuff, like fly it next to the ground and do figure eights with it.

About twenty minutes later, his parents announced they were going be inside.

"I'll make lasagna tomorrow," his dad promised as Luke landed his kite. "We'll make a whole evening of it."

Luke nodded and smiled, visibly pleased.

"And, Grace, you'll come?" Mrs. Girardi smiled.

My eyes shot over to Luke who was grinning idiotically at me. Had he said something to them when they came out? Joan knowing was one thing, but his _parents!_

But then, I realized, that's what you do when you're dating someone. You go to their family functions and try not to look too bored.

"Yeah," I exhaled, "Yeah, I guess I will come."

His parents laughed and said goodnight, and a few minutes later Joan said she was going inside.

She gave me a long look before she mumbled something like, "And they said _I_ was crazy."

Luke and I put the kite away and he took it into the house before we walked back to my house. As we walked, we kept our hands in our pockets to protect them from the cold, but my shoulder was comfortably nestled against his side the whole way home. We traded stories and joked about stupid things on the way, and I wondered for the thousandth time what was it about this guy that made me feel so content.

We walked up to my driveway, and I stopped and turned to him. "Uhh…I'll say goodnight here…I don't know what's…" I wasn't sure if we'd be able to hear my mother on the porch.

He smiled at me and took my hand. I squeezed back, took a step closer, and wrapped my free hand around his neck and pulled him near me. His hand came around me as our eyes closed and his lips repeatedly claimed mine.

I pulled back to look at him, and saw his eyes shining down at me. I released his hand and placed mine around his waist.

"Happy birthday, Girardi," I whispered before I drew him to me and kissed him again.


End file.
